


We Few

by LucyMontero



Series: The Misadventures of Lucy Montero: An extremely reluctant heroine of middling talent and even less luck [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deathly Hallows AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyMontero/pseuds/LucyMontero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never the heroes of this story.<br/>Durmstrang, always isolated, now enduring a reign of terror, its faculty replaced by servants of the Dark Lord.<br/>Beauxbatons, besieged for 200 years, now paralyzed by the threat of an alliance between Voldemort's followers and their ancient foes.<br/>And Hogwarts, a school which, by its very design, discourages the formation of a united front, slowly being cut off from the world without much hope of assistance.<br/>The newly formed Hogwarts International Society, against all logic and sense, becomes involved in an intelligence sharing network that might just save their lives- although no one will ever know about it.<br/>So much happened while Harry was away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Violent Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: And we're off. For those of you who are new I thought it might be important to add that this is a part of a series. The other stories are posted over at fanfiction.net and will be migrated as soon as possible. So it might be helpful, if you want a better idea of Lucy's background, to read the two stories that immediately preceed this one in the series. The Egyptian Exodus is short, just 5 chapters, chronicling the summer before this year, and gives a good background on Lucy's situation. Rockinghorse People, Rebels, and Redcoats is the year at Hogwarts before this, and covers a little more of Lucy's history, the formation of the BA and the International Society as well as the introduction of all the characters in those two bodies.  
> Note, it should not be necessary to read either of the stories before these in order to understand this adventure- I recap relevant details when characters are introduced. And in all honesty, I would almost rather you not read them before the others, as my writing back then annoys me, and Lucy comes close to emulating She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and I'm afraid they might put you off the series entirely, if this introduction hasn't already accomplished that.

 

 

**We Few**

_We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;_  
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me  
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,  
This day shall gentle his condition;  
Make him a member of the gentry, even if he is a commoner.  
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed  
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,  
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks  
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Before the Battle of Agincourt, 25 October 1415  
William Shakespeare's  _Henry V_ , Act 4, Scene 3

* * *

 

"Afternoon, Miss."

Lucy smiled inwardly at the familiar Yankee twang and gave the Marine sentry her most dazzling smile as she flashed her passport. She breathed easier once she had passed onto the embassy grounds; she had been experiencing a nagging worry all the way across town that she couldn't place. The school year had yet to start, she couldn't possibly be in trouble already.

Well, not  _probably_  in any case.

However, nothing could harm her inside the solid and reassuring walls of the American embassy, and the mere sight of the flags filled her with such unexpected good humor that she found herself smiling at nearly everyone, from the family standing in line to the bedraggled man in an overcoat on the stairs muttering about paperwork. Following the now familiar path she climbed to the third floor and preceded down the hall, turning in at the office door, fifth on the right, emblazoned with the title "American Citizen Services."

A pretty woman in her 30's, blonde hair pulled back in a bun, sat talking on the phone in a thick Georgia drawl and motioned Lucy to take a seat.

"Yes Mr. Prescott...no, Mr. Prescott...well I'm afraid that's not quite how diplomatic immunity works here in the UK Mr. Prescott. Yes but-... I see that but-...Be that as it may, sir, those fines will still have to be paid... Well you can take that up with the people over in Judicial Assistance, would you like me to connect you? Please hold sir."

The woman gave Lucy an apologetic smiled. "Be right with you honey," before punching two buttons on the phone.

"Betty? Ruth May from Special Consular Services. I'm fine sugar, thanks. Listen, I hate to do this to you, but I've got Leo Prescott on the phone, again... Yes, well, he apparently changed his mind... Uh huh, well I  _told_  him the Consulate doesn't do that but I figure maybe if he hears it from you he'll get himself over to the High Court before the good people of Great Britain deport him...Yes'm we _would_ all be better off if he was expelled from the country, but the paper work... Thanks sugar, he's on line five."

Hanging up the phone with a sigh of relief Ruth May Baker nearly jumped out of her chair to see Lucy sitting patiently.

"Lordy child, I'm sorry, I plumb forgot you were there. What can I do for you?"

Lucy smiled. "I'm Lucy Montero, I have an appointment."

Ruth May glanced down her schedule, "Oh right, with Ms. Womack. Go right on in honey."

The appointment didn't take long. Ms. Womack was a secretary Lucy had met the year previously, who had agreed to hold a few sealed documents for Lucy, on the arrangement that she renewed the contract at a pre-appointed time. If she did not, they were to be unsealed and the directions inside followed. Those instructions were a complete mystery to everyone except Lucy, however even the _possibility_ that the documents contained a detailed description of the wizarding world, documented evidence, and the directions to Diagon Ally, St. Mungos, and half a dozen other locations was too real to be ignored. They had provided her with a small bit of protection from the less scrupulous of the Ministry workers, and as long as she remained healthy and free, the documents would never be opened.

As for the Consulate, Lucy had sold them an extremely dramatic sob story about an ugly custody fight between her parents and fears that she might be abducted.

The arrangement had served its purpose in the past, but given the events of the past summer, it probably wasn't even necessary. A far greater threat to both the wizarding world and Lucy's own beloved Western Circle had emerged, and she was certain that given the recent reign of terror she and her rather impressive record of Ministry Immigration Violations were a rather low priority. She signed the lease that would guarantee the documents remained locked up until the spring, and made her way downstairs.

The clock started to chime as she emerged again into the London morning. At that sound Lucy pulled her thoughts back to the present and made a dash for the first cab she saw.

"King's Cross please, and as quickly as possible."

As she settled into the seat of the cab, she was too preoccupied with the morning traffic to notice that the man in the rumpled overcoat from inside the embassy was now  _outside_  the embassy, watching the cab pull away. Had she been paying attention a few moments later in the ally next to the building, she would have been rewarded with the extraordinary sight of the man in the overcoat transforming into a slight young woman with pink hair. She withdrew from the pocket of the coat a very small bird, to whose leg she tied a small note, and then let it fly. The remarkably quick little animal was out of sight in seconds, heading north. Her job more or less completed, the mysterious woman pulled a candy from her pocket, tossed the wrapper on the ground, popped the sweet in her mouth, cast a careful look about, and promptly vanished.

As it was, she was gone just moments before another young woman appeared spontaneously in the very same alley. She bent down, picked up the candy wrapper, and held it to her nose. Smiling, she tucked it in her pocket, and set off around the corner towards the embassy.

A marine approached as she walked through the door. "ID please- oh, back again are you?"

She smiled charmingly, "I forgot my passport upstairs."

Th Marine clucked. "Miss you really need to keep an eye on those better. Identity theft can happen to anyone."

"That would be terrifying. I won't let it happen again."

Upstairs, in the office of Special Consular Services, just as Lucy Montero was speeding toward the train station, there was a knock on Ruth May's office door.

"Why, hello again Miss Montero, was there something else I could do for you?"

The girl smiled, "Yes, there is."

* * *

King's Cross was crowded, and Lucy, not very tall to begin with, was having a fine time of it trying to maneuver her trolley through the busy platform.

_CRASH_

Lucy grabbed her elbow and let fly a string of Spanish curses that would have made a sailor blush. She hopped up and down to distract herself from the pain, and frowned at the middle aged wizarding couple, their arms firmly about the boy of thirteen, pushing the trolley that had nailed her on the right side, as they made their way through the barrier without turning back.

"Oh I'm fine, no need to worry about me," she grumbled. Honestly, what was their hurry? And a boy of that age, did he really still need both his parents to put him onto the train?

"Sever the umbilical cord, do it now," she muttered, as she tucked her elbows in and fought the traffic to take the barrier at a run.

As she came through she saw the same family stalling directly in front of the barrier. Damn silly thing to do. In what could no way be considered intentional, Lucy accidentally let herself run just a little bit too far, her trolley connecting solidly with the back of the boy's, sending his trunk flying across the platform.

"Excuse me," she smiled, turning her attention toward the train. Now, if she loaded up in that baggage car there she would only have to move about 50 feet...

All thoughts of loading up vanished as Lucy caught sight of the next person to come through the barrier.

The tiny blond girl, however, was checking her trunk, and had her back turned, thereby placing herself in perfect ambush position.

Lucy abandoned her trunk and sprinted towards her victim, ready to pounce.

She hadn't gotten within five yards of 2nd year Marguerite Ducasse when she found a wand at her throat and three sets of burly arms restraining her, pushing her down to her knees.

"Put your hands on the ground," the only one she could see commanded in a thick French accent.

"Uh, I was in Cleveland."

"What?"

"I don't know what you think I did but I was in Cleveland that week, I swear."

At the ruckus, the blond girl turned around, jaw open in dismay, and raced over.

_"Bastian!"_

However, she was restrained by yet another burly Frenchman.

"Ecoutez-moi, s'il vous plait! C'est Lucy, mon amie!"

It seemed that the pressure of the wand at Lucy's throat eased a fraction. Bastian turned to Marguerite, who had shaken of the other guard's hold.

"Qui est-ce?"

"Elle c'est Lucy, mon amie. Ne c'est pa dangereuse."

At this Marguerite shoved past Bastian, and pulled Lucy to her feet. She continued to argue furiously with the five French guards, none of which weighed less than 180 pounds, and who, Lucy was certain, knew 25 ways to kill short Hispanic girls without touching their wands. Whereas Marguerite couldn't weigh more than 85 pounds and looked like Goldilocks reincarnate.

And there was no way Lucy was stepping out from behind her until this was all resolved.

After much foot stamping on Marguerite's part, as well as shaking of fingers and dirty looks, the arguing ceased. Then, much to Lucy's surprise and the guard's chagrin, Marguerite pointed to Lucy, ordered something, and then waited, expectantly, foot tapping.

Bastian cleared his throat. "My apologies, mademoiselle. It was a mistake." He gave his men a narrow look. "We are all very sorry."

The rest of the squad mumbled their apologies, after which Marguerite stood on tiptoe to give them each a kiss on the cheek, before they moved away to bring her trunk aboard the train.

Lucy breathed easier once they were out of earshot. "Ok, if I hug you, are they gonna hex me?"

Marguerite beat her to the chase. When she pulled back she promptly collapsed into a state of hysterical laughter.

"You know, you may think that being held at wandpoint by four of the largest Frenchman I have ever seen is funny, but it really isn't."

Marguerite hiccupped and wiped her eyes. "Oh, sorry Lucy, but that was priceless. Don't worry, I convinced Bastian, you remember him from this summer, don't you, that you were a friend and not at all dangerous. He has strict orders to keep his distance unless I call for him."

"He does seem a little on edge," Lucy huffed as she began to drag her trunk. Her run in with the magical French Secret Service had meant that the nearest baggage cars were full, she'd probably have to walk to the other end of the train to find a space. Marguerite, un-phased, skipped along next to her.

"Well, they aren't the only ones on edge you know. I mean, look at all the parents here. Even the sixth and seventh years have heaps of family here to send them off, and they don't look like it's for nostalgic purposes either."

Lucy took a look around. Marguerite was right. Just past the annoying family that had attacked her on the platform she recognized fellow seventh years saying goodbyes to parents and young siblings, it even looked like there were some aunts, uncles, and grandparents turned out as well.

"They look sad," she commented softly. And no wonder, from what she'd read in the Daily Prophet. A shadow had fallen over the wizarding world in the past few months, and no one was safe. Hogwarts was probably the last haven left that was still out of Lord Voldemort's reach, and even it had shown signs of weakness. Families clearly understood that anything could happen in the months to come.

Marguerite sighed, "Well, it's not a happy time to be sure. Papa and mama would have come to see me off, but they needed to stay with Andre and the ministry."

"How is your brother doing?"

Marguerite and her older brother, Andre, were the children of Monsieur and Madame Ducasse, the French Ambassadors to the British Ministry of Magic. Andre, who had graduated from Beauxbatons some years earlier, had been alone in the family's London residence that summer when it was attacked with a Dragon Breath Bomb. The attack had lead to the entire Ducasse household staff being sent on sabbatical, and replaced with French Ministry Guards. Hence, the brute squad that was currently following the small girl. As for Andre Ducasse, the young man had been terribly burnt, but had been in stable condition the last Lucy had heard.

"Much better. His sight is coming back, and the doctor thinks he'll recover it completely."

Lucy paused, "I didn't know it was injured."

Marguerite studied the ground intently. "It was a side effect that the gas had on his eyes. They didn't realize it was a problem, that sort of gas isn't normally found in that kind of a bomb, so they didn't flush them out immediately. At first they thought his vision problems were the result of the head injury, but it kept getting worse, slowly, but surely. Once the traumas were healing they took a closer look, and figured it out. They caught it in time, they think."

Lucy couldn't help but stop and pull Marguerite into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

Marguerite held on for a bit before pulling away. "He's going to be fine," she stuck her chin out a bit defiantly, "He's going to be good as new."

She had to be one of the strongest people Lucy had ever met. "Of course he is. I, on the other hand, am going to collapse if we get all the way to the end of the train and don't find a compartment."

They peered inside. Lucy's trunk would have to be shrunk to the size of a matchbox to fit in there.

Lucy groaned.

"It's not possible. OK, let's go-"

She was cut off as a pair of arms grabbed her from behind, spinning her around.

"Trunk trouble, love? Never you fear. Grab that, will you mate? I'll get this little Sheila on board."

"Wesley Lane, if you don't stop that I'm going to be sick."

"Who are you calling Wesley?" Came a second Australian voice from the right. "Gosh, what are you packing in here, rocks? Put her down Wills, I might need help hauling this thing."

"It's not that heavy!" Lucy shouted indignantly, desperately trying to get her bearings. "Marguerite, you are not helping, don't think I can't hear the giggles."

The world stopped, and she was still scooped up in William Lane's arms. "Phew, forget that mate, give us a hand, I might need help hauling  _this_ thing... Ow! Hey, that's not playing fair."

Lucy didn't moved her wand one inch from William's eye. "Down. Now."

William lowered Lucy to her feet. Lucy cast a steely gaze at Marguerite, who was still dying of laughter on the ground, and smoothed out her shirt. "A simple hello would have sufficed. What would Warren have said if he could see you now? Your brother was a gentleman."  Their brother, Warren Lane, the eldest of the Lane brothers of Canberra, Australia, had graduated the previous spring. Lucy still hadn't forgiven him for it.

Wesley Lane guffawed. "Our brother was the one that recommended we  _do_  it."

William, in a lower voice, added, "Audrey told him about hows the French girl had a bit of a rough summer. Warren told us to try and cheer her up. Truth be told you were both looking a little low."

Well, now what was she supposed to do about that. She rose up on her toes and kissed the Aussie on the cheek.

William looked quite pleased with himself. "I always knew Warren was a smart one." His gaze slid further down the platform, to where Chandrika Sanji was pulling her trunk along. "Ah, another lady in distress. Wesley, hurry up with that."

With a tip of his imaginary hat to Lucy and Marguerite, they were off down the platform, and Lucy watched enviously as Wesley carried her trunk as if it held no more than air.

Marguerite wiped her tears of laughter on her sleeve and leaned on Lucy. "They're funny."

Lucy sighed. "They're a handful. Two, in fact." The Lanes had reminded her that, as the head of the Gryffindor International Student Body, they were also partially her responsibility this year.

Last year, when the Ministry had adopted a strategy, to deflect attention from the treachery in its own ranks by insinuating that the real threat to Britain's wizards was being smuggled in from abroad, the resulting xenophobic Ministry policies had fell heaviest among the foreign Hogwarts students. After much grumbling, some civil disobedience, and a little minor arson, the students had been granted protection of sorts and the permission to form an official school Society.  This had not been Lucy's idea, at all, and really, if she hadn't been forced to endure the mind numbing paperwork and the humiliating investigations and interrogations, she wouldn't have chosen to be involved at all. It was her considerable experience that the best way to survive the British educational system was to keep as low a profile as possible. And avoid eating things with names like "blood pudding".

But then Warren Lane had the hideous bad taste to graduate on time and leave her the oldest Gryffindor who wasn't a permanent resident of the UK, and therefor automatically in charge of the other International students in the House. Responsibility for others was not something Lucy enjoyed or sought, ever. She could cheerfully have strangled him for it.

"Come on, let's-"

Marguerite's shriek had her whirling about.

But Marguerite was already being whirled about and placed squarely back on her feet by an enthusiastic Chester P. Parker, who had grown ten feet over the summer, or so it seemed.

But Lucy, fairly sure she hadn't been the only one to hear that shriek, cast as wary glance over her shoulder, and saw five burly men striding in their direction.

"Uh, Marguerite, you better call off the brute squad before they tie Parker down to the rails with his own intestines."

" _What_!" Parker squeaked.

"She'll tell you later," Lucy put a hand on the second year's shoulder as Marguerite rushed by to pacify Bastian and his companions.

At that moment she saw someone waving at her from behind Bastian's frowning form.

"I've got to go Parker, I'll see you at the feast."

"You're leaving!" Parker squeaked again, his eyes never leaving Bastian and his very large hands.

"Trust me,old man,he hates me more than he hates you."

She left the quivering Hufflepuff to his fate, and moved along the train towards the slightly intimidating eyebrows of Dimitri Chernyshev.

"Chernyshev," she greeted the sixth year Slytherin with a handshake and a nod.

"Montero," the burly Russian grinned, "Good to see you back."

"And you," Lucy glanced over Dimitri's left shoulder and waved to his countrywoman and housemateKatya Kuzmin, who was loading trunks. "Have a nice summer?"

Dimitri shrugged, "Undefeated, can't complain."

Lucy frowned but feigned comprehension, "Um, right."

A large hand clapped her on the back, "Summer Quidditch League, it's all he'll talk about. We'll be lucky if he ever shuts up."

Dimitri smirked, "What's that, do I hear the bitter moan of St. Petersburg's sore loser? Get over it Vlad, its not healthy to hang onto all that rage."

Lucy grinned as Vladimir passed by her to heave his trunk into the luggage compartment.

"Oy there, I've got a system!" Katya flashed her prefect's badge the way the FBI might flash their identification. Vlad grumbled, but eventually the 5th year pulled his trunk back to wait while Katya resumed organizing her system.

Dimitri chuckled. "Listen, you're the Gryffindor Supreme...err...head, umm, the head, yes?"

Lucy chuckled, "Something like that, I can't quite remember the title, but, well..." she pointed to a tatty piece of paper with the letters "SP" written on it pinned to her shirt. Her "badge" had been haphazardly written on a spare piece of parchment before the end of the previous term. She intended to lose it at the earliest possible moment.

Dimitri nodded, "I am so for the Slytherins. We thought it would be a good idea to have a meeting as soon as possible."

Lucy nodded; Dimitri was the head of the Slytherin Chapter of the Hogwarts International Society, as she was the head of the Gryffindor Chapter. Just what exactly the society was supposed to do was anyone's guess, as it had only formed officially the previous term.

"Sounds good. Any ideas as to where?"

Dimitri shrugged, "We're not hiding from anyone anymore, the library'll work fine."

Lucy nodded, "All right, I'll talk to the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs."

"Good, I was hoping you would do that. I'd do it myself, but they get a bit skittish around us Slytherins, as you know."

Lucy smiled, "They don't mean to really..."

Dimitri chuckled, "Oh yes they do. But we're used to it, and working around it, which is where you come in."

"Right, I'll get back to you then."

The whistle blew. With one fluid twist of her wrist, Katya sent several dozen trunks smoothly flying into the baggage compartment. She closed the door with a flourish, crossing her arms and looking extremely pleased with herself.

Then, of course, she shrieked.

"Onto da train!  _Now_! Slytherins, on board before I start to loose my summer good humor."

With a nod to Dimitri, Lucy stepped on board and began to move down the cars.

The section was predominantly Slytherin. She was greeted with cheer by Saori and Mai, fellow international students that she had roomed with in London over Easter, but they weren't who she was looking for. A few more cars brought her into Ravenclaw territory, and it wasn't long till she heard the voices she was searching for.

"Now, that wasn't my fault."

"Not your fault? That's rich, considering the burn marks that remain on the floor to this day. Did the fireplace walk itself halfway across the room?"

"Those were probably from that bloody bird, isn't it?"

"Lucy always kept him in the corner Lynx, there's no way Sparks caused that mess. It was you. Drunk."

"I was not!"

"I saw you! You're only lucky  _Lucy_  didn't find you in that state."

She poked her head in, "Lynx is lucky I didn't find him in what state, Bet?"

Lynx Brimstead flushed from his toes to the roots of his extremely wild platinum blond hair. "No state whatsoever. It's good to see you Lucy, how was your summer?"

She decided to let whatever it was that Lynx had so obviously burned up in her absence slide, and gave the 6th year Hufflepuff a warm hug. She then plunked herself down next to the other boy in the compartment, who leaned over and saluted her cheek.

"Rasheph, thanks so much for the papers this summer."

Seventh year Ravenclaw Rasheph Radu grinned, "Oh that? Don't mention it. Say, you moved around quite a bit didn't you? Have a relaxing holiday?"

"Not nearly. How about you Bet, alls well at castle Tsepish I hope?"

Bethany Tsepish, the final occupant of the compartment, rolled her eyes and tossed her long black hair. "The last of the medieval tapestries bit the dust in July, but the outside still looks all right, and that's all that matters."

The Tsepish family was an old pureblood clan with a well respected name and not much else in their possession. For all of their Romanian noble connections, the family fortune had gone dry years and years ago, as Bet had revealed to Lucy privately. Enterprising young soul that she was, the seventh year Slytherin had been paying her way through Hogwarts by running a high stakes gambling ring in the dungeons.

A ring to which Lucy would be eternally grateful, since they had donated the funds that had enabled several Hogwarts international students, including herself, to pay tuition and fees for the forthcoming term after the Ministry had withdrawn their scholarships.

"Good to know." Lucy settled herself down. "So, any developments over the summer?"

"Well, didn't you read about Lynx's second cousin being found in a most unorthodox position in Bath-  _ow_!"

"That woman is not related to me, for the forty-seventh time!"

Bet sighed as the two boys grappled on the floor. "Lemon drop, Lucy?"

"Yes, thank you." Feeling much like she was watching a televised hockey match, Lucy scooped up a handful of candies and watched the boys wrestle.

"No, no Rasheph, you'll never hold him like that, you have to immobilize the-"

"Lynx, now that was just flat out cheating."

"But creative, you have to give him that."

"Mmm, very Slytherin of you Lynx, I'm surprised."

"But  _that_  has to be the most pathetic headlock of all time."

"This  _is_  kind of sad, now that you mention it. Didn't you have any brothers at all?"

The wrestling match continued despite the heckling, and eventually could not be contained within the compartment. With one twist Lynx pulled himself and Rasheph through the compartment door and out into the corridor.

"Ow!"

The scream, however, was female.

The boys froze at once, then scrambled up, revealing the crumpled form of a small black girl, with a very bloody nose.

"Oh, geez, sorry about that, it was an accident."

The girl scrambled to her feet. "Accident my foot!" As if to prove it, she stamped her left foot.

At that moment three things happened. The door to the compartment slammed shut, both Rasheph and Lynx's heads twisted to the right, as if they had been smacked, and Lucy felt a ringing in her head.

A glance at Bet showed her that she had heard the ringing too.

The stranger grew very quiet, pinching her nose and backing away.

"Listen, it's ok, really, I'm just going to find a bathroom and-"

"No!" Lucy and Bet shouted at once.

"I've got a handkerchief right here."

"Why don't you come and sit down for a minute, you know you might have hit your head. The boys were just about to take a nice walk to cool off."

"And find the snack cart, weren't you?"

"Er, right. Yeah, let's go." Sheepishly, Lynx and Rasheph slunk off down the train.

"They're normally pussycats, really. Come on in, I'm Bet, this is Lucy, and you are?"

"Agatha, Agatha Dunstan."

Lucy pressed her handkerchief to Agatha's nose, and noted the Hufflepuff badge on her cloak.

"Your in Hufflepuff then? That will make Lynx feel extra guilty. Do you know Lynx?"

Over the next half hour they discovered that Agatha Dunstan was a third year Hufflepuff with Quidditch dreams and herbology nightmares. She lived in London, which explained the cockney accent, her mother was a nurse at St. Mungos and her muggle father was a children's book illustrator.

Bet finally decided to stop beating around the bush.

"So how long have you been able to toss stuff around without a wand?"

Agatha paled.

Lucy elbowed Bet in the ribs.

"Cause, you know, Lucy can, she's been doing this since forever."

This caused Agatha's eyes to widen and earned Bet a second elbow in her ribs.

"What? _You_ knew she could do it, _I_ knew she could do it, she might as well realize _she_ can do it."

Agatha shook her head. "How did you know?"

"What, besides the shaking compartment doors and excellently timed mental smack-down that you gave the boys?"

"That- that couldn't be me."

Lucy patted her hand. "Besides that, your were glowing like a roman candle, mystically speaking."

Agatha leaned back against her seat. "I could never explain it, I just thought it would go away."

Lucy sighed, "Do you want it to go away?"

"You can  _do_  that?"

"Probably, if you don't want to learn how to use it."

"Use what?"

"Your gift," Bet grinned, "You sort of stumbled right into an informal meeting of the closeted magical freaks of Britain."

"What?"

"Barbarians Anonymous, that's what we call ourselves."

"We're thinking of having buttons made, but that would defeat the purpose I suppose."

"You mean you  _all_  can do this?"

Lucy shrugged, "We're all a little different. I was raised in a school for magic like this, so I can do it all, sort of. Bet, Rasheph, and Lynx, they all discovered their abilities more recently."

"And we're all good at different things. Rasheph can put images into peoples heads, I can hear thoughts, in a way, Lynx makes things fly around and blow up."

"What?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, "He's an elementary firestarter, but he has a long way to go on the control."

Agatha shook her head. "Wow. How come I never heard about this before?"

"We don't exactly advertise. People tend to get nervous."

"Right, right, of course. Wow."

"Like I said, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. It's fairly simple for me to make it go away at this stage."

Agatha studied her shoes for a long while. "I might have taken you up on that, before I realized that I wasn't alone."

Bet grinned. "Trust me, you're connected to more people than you think through this."

Agatha smiled, "Well, count me in."

"Huzzah!" Came a cry from outside the compartment, and Lynx, Rasheph, and a younger boy with curly brown hair burst through the door, ending up in a heap on the floor.

"Not again," Bet groaned.

"But we brought sweets!" Lynx popped up, nearly bobbling the cauldron cakes, which Agatha rescued.

"How long have you boys been outside," she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Long enough to realize that we have a new member," the curly haired boy grinned. "I'm Magnus, by the way, ran into these two at the tea trolley."

Magnus Mercury had only joined the BA at the very end of the previous term. The club itself had spontaneously formed last year during Lucy's time as a Hogwarts sixth year, when Lucy, who had been trained all her life at the Espiritu Institute, a Western Circle school in Northern New Mexico, realized that there were other students at Hogwarts with the "gifts" to manipulate natural energies. Western Circle wizards worked a slightly different form of magic than the wizards of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and the rest of the continent.  Whereas Hogwarts witches and wizards learned how to control magical energies with a wand, "western" wizards manipulated a different set of natural energies in a more direct fashion, without the use of a wand. It was rather like the difference between taking your energy from the rays of the sun and taking it from nuclear power. Wands were necessary at Hogwarts because one didn't want direct contact with magical energy any more than one wanted to step foot inside a nuclear reactor. Natural energy was safe to access without a wand, but was bound by the rules and limitations of nature. One could not use it to defy physics and chemistry and turn a bat into a bottle.

Needless to say, when Lucy's mentor had unexpectedly packed his charge off to Hogwarts at the age of 15, absolutely everything about the school looked and felt so wrong as to border on sacrilegious. Even after two years of working and living amongst them, Lucy remained extremely prejudicial and tended to see Hogwarts-type witches and wizards as well meaning crosses between lunatics and heretics. But she tried not to be too obvious about it.

In the Western Circle, wizards did not have limitless potential, and would only train in a subset of skills over their lifetime. One was either a powerful telepath or a gifted healer, but not usually both- and one's "gifts", or magical abilities, were determined by which energy channels were open in the brain, and how large they were. There was always a trade off- the most powerful wizards had only a few gifts, and were only strong in one, focusing their energy. Lucy was an example of the opposite end of the spectrum, she was a comparatively weak witch, because she had many channels open and thus her energy was dilluted the same way water out of a sprinkler was less forceful than a fire hose. Her foster brother had once compared her to an appetizer platter, a little of everything, but not exceptional at anything. She'd respond to this unflattering description by using her un-exceptional ability to communicate with animals to inspire a bird sitting above him to relieve itself. Her mentor had always told her it wasn't about how much power you had, but how smart you used it. In this case, Lucy's familiarity with many abilities was more useful than being powerful in any one, as it had enabled her to train Bet, Rasheph, and Lynx in the basics of each of their gifts when they had met last year. 

At Hogwarts, the club's existence was kept a secret, since Lucy knew more than anyone how most Hogwarts students reacted to the presence of "wandless wizards". She had made the mistake of not being discrete during her first year at Hogwarts two years ago, acting smug and showing off; it had now gone well, but she had learned from it. In the terms since, she had made a greater effort to fit in, and, in the usual pattern of teenage gossip, her "oddity" was soon forgotten, or at least, ceased to be an entertaining topic of conversation; of which she was very grateful.

Bet, Lynx, Rasheph and Lucy had been the BA's founding members, and Magnus had found his way into the association on his own, through Rasheph. Lucy didn't question that, she was an Espiritu, which made the BA an extension of Espiritu, and Espiritu, unlike some Western Circle schools, never recruited. No letters, no scouts, no feeder schools. There was a certain mysticism surrounding the school's founding, and traditionally the students found a way to stumble upon the school, rather than the other way around.

Which is why Lucy saw Lynx and Rasheph's "accidental" tackling of Agatha as a perfectly natural means of introduction.

And indeed, the girl seemed more comfortable in the company of the clowning trio, and she extended her hand, "Agatha Dunstan, Hufflepuff."

"Mercury," Magnus managed between bites of his cake, he wiped his hand quickly on his trousers before returning Agatha's handshake, "Ravenclaw."

"Rasheph Radu, Ravenclaw."

Agatha raised an eyebrow at the badge on Rasheph's robes, "You're a prefect?"

Rasheph blushed. Bet giggled, "He's normally a bit more sedate. You can blame it all on this fellow," she poked at Lynx, who had squeezed himself between Bet and Agatha on the seat.

"Lynx Brimstead, Hufflepuff as well, I haven't seen you around much."

"You're on the Quidditch team," Agatha shrugged, as if this explained everything.

"Yes, and he does get hit in the head a lot, poor darling. You know Lynx, Agatha might be going out for Quidditch, you should pull some strings."

"Oy?" Lynx, his mouth completely full of chocolate frog, grinned broadly, which was a terrible brown and gooey sight. "Well, I'm not captain, but you ought to try out."

"Yes, because we all know Hufflepuff's chronic reliance on a deep reserve bench." Lucy snickered.

"Hey, just because your lot finally managed to get through a year without having your seeker mortally wounded during game time is no reason to get up on your high horse with me. Or shall we recount the record breaking injury list of two years ago?"

"Uncle," Lucy growled.

After the boys had finished stuffing their faces with the sweets that they claimed to have brought for the girls, the conversation flowed easily from Quidditch to classes to Rita Skeeter's latest book. The train chugged north, darkness had fallen, and Magnus was launching into another epic tale of the authoress' addiction to herbal teas (among other herbal products) when Marguerite appeared at the compartment door.

"Lucy, could you spare a moment?"

Lucy excused herself and followed Marguerite down the train.

"What is it?"

"We just got a letter."

"What? Who? Where? How?"

Marguerite sighed and pulled her along toward the back of the train. "A letter, addressed to the International Society, just a few moments ago at the back of the train, delivered by a swallow, we think."

"African or European swallow?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Who found it?"

"The Slytherins, you know they like to take up the final couple of cars, well apparently it kept knocking on the window of Dimitri's compartment. When he opened it the bird flew in, dropped off the letter, and flew back out. They haven't opened it yet, they sent Sasha to get me, I'm supposed to bring you and Sergei, and someone else is tracking down Gisella."

Gisella was the head of the international Hufflepuffs, and Sergei was in charge of the international Ravenclaws.

They found Dimitri in the back baggage car of the train, along with Katya, Vladimir, and Koji/Kentaro, the Tsujimoto twins that for the life of her Lucy could never tell apart.

The caboose of the Hogwarts Express was designed for trunk storage, not passenger comfort, Lucy soon realized. The Slytherins were sitting on a few stray trunks that weren't piled to the ceiling, so she and Marguerite opted for the floor.

"What are you doing back here?"

Dimitri nodded towards a very full ashtray near the back door.

"Right. So what's this about a letter?"

Katya tossed the envelope across the car. "Came about five minutes ago. No idea where from, of course, we wanted to wait until the rest-"

At that moment sixth years Gisella Trifiro, Sergei Petrenko, and Aysha Doman burst into the car, followed by a more serene Sasha Yudin, a Slytherin 2nd year. "What's going on?"

Vlad groaned and lit another cigarette.

Once the story of the letter's appearance was repeated and they agreed everyone was on an even footing, Katya eagerly ripped the envelope open.

"Well?"

Katya flipped through what looked like several pieces of paper, then sighed and handed two to Marguerite.

Marguerite glanced at it, "It's in French. Why would they write to us in French?"

"This is not Russian," Katya passed the other papers she was holding over to Dimitri, who shrugged and passed them to Vlad, who handed them to Sergei, who handed them to Sasha.

"Let me see." Sasha raised her eyebrows at Lucy's request, but handed the papers over. Lucy flipped to the end.

"The signature is appalling, Vincent Laaa... or is that a 'K'..."

"Lucy, can you read that?"

"No, but I thought that if we knew who sent it, we might have an idea about at least what language it was written in."

Gisella looked over Marguerite's shoulder. "What does it say?"

"It's says that they are writing on behalf of the Beauxbatons student body."

"What!"

"Shhh! Go on..."

"Valerie... Valerie Krann..." Lucy tilted the paper again.

"Lucy, can't you do that any quieter?"

"I've almost got it!"

Lucy was being completely ignored, as she held the paper up to the light to better make out the letters in the signature.

"What does Beauxbatons want with us?"

"They heard about us, and what we went through last year, how we stood up to the Ministry and ultimately became recognized by the government and the school."

"Is that what we did?"

"Not really, but it sure sounds nice when you put it that way."

"What else does it say?"

"They realized that we are the only kind of official student organization at the school-"

"What, the Gleeclup don't count?"

"And as such they want to-"

"Hey! Who the hell is Victor Krum?" Lucy interrupted.

Dimitri's eyes nearly fell out of his sockets. And the letter was nearly lost as he made to rip it out of Lucy's hands. Sergei intervened.

"I don't believe it, you're right Lucy, I've got an autographed picture and that's his signature."

Dimitri was still reeling, and drooling. "The letter is from Victor Krum... let me see it."

"Who is he?" Lucy took the letter back from Sergei. The boys were clearly not stable enough to handle the document.

"He's a Quidditch player," Katya sighed. "Comes from Bulgaria, he was here for the TriWizard Tournament three years ago, the Durmstrang Champion."

Lucy was on her feet and picking her way around trunks, headed for the door.

"Where are you taking Victor's letter!?" Dimitri cried.

"Nicholas or Svetlana Kornakovitch," she named the siblings from her own house. "Their families are from Bulgaria, their parents sent them here because they don't like Durmstrang politics. This letter is probably written in a language they can  _read_."

"Well can't you leave it with-"

_BANG_

Lucy had her hand on the doorknob, with the door partly ajar. The explosion knocked her back over a trunk. The car swayed crazily to one side and the shriek of protesting metal was nearly deafening.

They saw the trunks sliding on the racks, but there wasn't time to get out of the way. Lucy didn't even think to scream, but instinctively curled up and threw her arms over her head before the luggage came crashing down and the world went black.

__

__


	2. Memorable Moments

**_"Then bang! Crash! The lightening flashed and-well, that's another story, never mind."_**  
Stephen Sondheim,  _Into the Woods_

Lucy had been knocked unconscious on a surprising number of occasions in her short time at Hogwarts, and as a result, she was beginning to find she came out of a blackout with surprising speed and clarity.

There were less useful skills to have, she supposed.

The lights were out in the compartment, as far as she could tell. No light was coming in anywhere, she couldn't actually see directly for herself as she was currently buried under a barrage of luggage. Trying to push herself up off the floor proved futile, and confirmed her suspicion that there was something seriously wrong with her right arm, it just should not be bending _that_ way. It didn't hurt, yet. Perhaps she was in shock. That was what they called it in the TV shows, shock.

Steadying herself, she focused on her breathing and used her gift-this was definitely a situation in which wandless magic was helpful. She grounded, centered, collected some energy,and with a little concentration, manage focus her power and raise whatever was covering her about three feet in the air. Still no signs of light- which meant power was definitely off to the compartment. Working blind probably wasn't a great idea. Sadly, the western circle had no spell to create light, so she struggled with using her left hand to get into her right pocket, and finally succeeded in locating her wand.

"Lumos," she whispered, not knowing why she was whispering- it seemed appropriate. She crawled out through the opening she had created when she raised what she now saw as three trunks that had landed on her, and surveyed the damage.

The car was a disaster, at least what she could see of it. She could make out a few of the Slytherins, unconscious against the left side, but since the car had leaned to the right, most of the luggage was piled along the right side as well, so at least they were not completely buried. In fact, they appeared the be almost on top of the pile of trunks. Lucy now realized why she was so disoriented. Sometime after she had blacked out, the car had fallen completely over onto its right side. It had violently thrown those on the left side of the car on top of most of the luggage, and had buried those on the right side under the avalanche.

A cold sweat broke out down Lucy's back. Marguerite had been on the right side of the car.

"Marguerite?" She called.

She heard something then, but it wasn't Marguerite. It came from outside the car. Someone was outside, and that someone was... trying to be quiet? That was odd. No one who was coming to check on the safety of students that had been riding in the baggage car would try to be quiet.

This wasn't someone she wanted to meet. With nowhere else to hide, Lucy quickly noxed her wand, slithered back into her original place, and carefully lowered the three trunks back on top of her.

The footsteps came closer, walked around the car, and came back again. Lucy held her breath, she was hidden, but Katya and Dimitri were not. She could only hope that in the darkness whomever it was would not look that far back in the car.

The door creaked. Getting through that door would be tricky, Lucy thought, since with the car on its side one would have to climb over the luggage blocking the bottom of the door.

After what sounded like a few tries, the footsteps returned, walking away into the night.

She promised herself she would worry about who that was later. As it was she was scrambling out of her hole again, scanning the car for Marguerite.

As her light fell on Dimitri, the boy groaned, and muttered something in Russian.

"Dimitri? Are you ok?"

She paused in her systematic stacking of luggage.

"What happened?"

"The car flipped. Give me hand, will you? I'm down by one and we've got people buried in here."

Dimitri rubbed his head, but his eyes soon cleared, and together they Leviosa'd the luggage off the pile one at a time, stacking them to create space to work, and lifting layer after layer off of the people on the bottom.

"How many did you say you were under?"

"Three, but I was near the door, I didn't get the brunt of it."

"I just remember flying... right into the ceiling. Katya, Sasha and I must have been knocked out."

"I think everyone got knocked out." By now she could see one of Marguerite's black and white saddle shoe and the skinny little leg it was attached to sticking out. It wasn't moving.

Dimitri paled. "Come on, she'll be fine, just a few more trunks."

Two more trunks and they knew that Marguerite was, indeed, fine. She had been buried under seven trunks, one Slytherin, and one Ravenclaw. When the rubble was finally cleared they found that the only bit of Marguerite that  _could_  be seen was her leg, the rest of her was covered by Sergei and Vlad, who both, so it appeared, had thrown themselves over the small girl when the explosion occurred.

"Great," Dimitri huffed, the Slytherin in him not willing to display just how proud he was of Vlad, or how relieved he was to see everyone breathing, "Once Katya hears about this she's gonna start bugging me about why I didn't throw myself over her."

"I wouldn't want you to throw yourself on me if the train had fallen off a god damn cliff you great baboon," came a slurry voice from behind them. Katya was sitting up with little Sasha Yudin on top of the pile they had landed on. Sasha didn't seem to be completely conscious, and was leaning heavily on Katya's shoulder.

"Good, then you can get down here and help us dig. Gisella, Aysha, and the twins are pinned under a couple of trunks in the corner."

"And we are all getting a little tired of waiting to be rescued." Gisella voice came from under a suitcase.

"Are you guys ok?"

"As good as can be expected. Lighter stuff down this end, although there is an owl over here that is getting less and less friendly by the minute."

Lucy dealt with checking Vlad, Sergei, and Marguerite, who awakened once all the talking began. The little girl had a few bruises, but was otherwise fine. Sergei and Vlad were suffering from back pain, which was to be expected.

In the back corner, several trunks had not been fastened correctly. Gisella had been partly pinned under an open trunk, and as such had suffered little more than a few scratches. The twins had been knocked out when they were thrown in the corner, but were not buried under anything heavier than a guitar case. And Aysha had been buffered by the contents of another trunk, her major trauma had come from hitting the wall and the angry owl that had scratched her through the cage bars in its agitation.

When they were all freed, Koji led the way out the door and into the night.

The car was lying on its side, facing downhill, and it appeared to have slid about fifty feet from the tracks.

"Oh great merciful Merlin," Gisella breathed. "Look where we were."

Lucy's stomach clenched. The car's slide down the mountain had been stopped by trees on a forested slope. She could follow the path of dirt and debris back up the slope to the train tracks. The car had toppled off the tracks not twenty feet after crossing the bridge.

"A couple of seconds sooner..." Vlad speculated

"We would have fallen all the way to the bottom of the gorge," Sergei measured the distance cooly. "That's got to be about three hundred feet."

"Stop it," Aysha shivered. "Let's go find the train."

The light of ten wands illuminated the path back up the slope, and the little troop began to march along the train tracks. Sasha, still not quite conscious, was given a piggyback ride by Kentaro. Aysha, deciding it would be cruel to leave it, carried the owl in its cage. They could hear noise in the distance, and as they rounded the sharp corner two hundred feet from the bridge, they saw the bright lights of the Express. Faces were pressed to windows, and a group of individuals was gathered around the back of the last car, inspecting the damage.

Someone spotted their lights before they got near, and suddenly a light a thousand times brighter than any "Lumos" Lucy had ever seen exploded from the direction of the train, illuminating the pass, and the little group of battered students limping, in the case of Sergei and Vladimir, along the tracks.

"Stop where you are!"

Seeing as they were very tired, and since there were about half a dozen wizards with their wands pointed at them, the little group shrugged, and noxed their wands.

Two wizards approached them briskly.

"I know one of those," Marguerite murmured, "He's an Auror, he was guarding Andre's hospital room for a while."

Lucy hadn't realized that there were Aurors guarding the express this year. She hadn't realized Aurors were guards at all. Of course, in war, people tended to be put where they were needed.

And apparently these two were needed to stare down a group of half-dead students.

The first Auror, a tall young man in his mid twenties with auburn hair and freckles regarded them with puzzlement.

"Where did you come from? Did you jump the train or something?"

Katya snorted. "Jump the train or something... don't be ridiculous. The  _train_  jumped, not us!"

Kentaro settled Sasha a little more comfortably on his back and gestured to the twisted mess on the back of the second to last, and now the last, car. "The last car got disconnected and fell off the tracks."

"And we were in it." Aysha added.

The second Auror, a woman in her forties with short blonde hair peered into the darkness. "Where is it?"

Sergei sighed, "About 300 feet back, around the bend, follow the debris trail just after the bridge. It's in the trees on the eastern slope about 50 feet down."

Gisella sighed, "May we go sit down now?"

The first Auror held up a hand, "Wait a minute, the last car on the Express is always a baggage car."

"Yes." Lucy felt they were demonstrating a phenomenal display of patience.

"What were you all doing in the baggage car?"

"Nothing, just talking, listen these two guys really need to sit down their backs are not well," Lucy tapped her foot impatiently. And, not that she was going to say anything in front of the stoic and uncomplaining Slytherins, but her arm was starting to hurt like hell.

The Aurors ushered them into a car near the back of the Express, which they all appreciated. The last thing they needed was to be marched to the front of the train while the entire school peered out the compartment windows. As it was, the only people who knew that they had ever been off the train were the handful of firsties in the second to last car, and none of them knew their names.

The Aurors also administered the Morphinus Charm, which would keep the pain down until they got to Hogwarts.

Lucy drifted off into a stupor as the train finally started again. As she did so, the two Aurors passing through the car looked on.

"You got their names?"

"Yes, all of them."

"And what did they say they were doing back there?"

"Having a meeting, something like that. I'm inclined to believe them, but we'll see what Albus Dumbledore thinks."

"Well, until then, I think it best to just keep this all under the ivy bush. I read about these kids last year, and the last thing this little society needs after nearly being arrested at Easter is to start the year off charged with the bombing of the Hogwarts Express."

* * *

Lucy awoke when she felt a gentle shake of her left shoulder. She looked up to see the blonde Auror standing over her.

 "The train's stopped. We're going to wait for most of the students to move out, then we'll put you all in carriages for the hospital wing."

Lucy stood up and looked down at her right arm. That angle just wasn't natural. She sighed, seeing Madame Pomfrey first thing was probably not the best way to start the year off.

After a few minutes, when the firsties had been ushered off to the boats and most of the carriages had left, the bedraggled group climbed into the remaining three coaches. Instead of dropping them off near the Great Hall, the coaches continued around towards the Hospital Wing.

"She's not going to be happy to see us again, is she?" Koji grumbled as he made his way up the stairs. 

That was an understatement. In an attempt at civil disobedience to draw attention to their shabby treatment at the hands of the Ministry, the society had occupied the Quidditch pitch at the end of the previous term, during the final match of the year. In addition to sustaining the injuries one could expect from chaining oneself to the goalposts in the presence of active bludgers, the entire society had the bad luck to encounter several Dementors during the overnight portion of their protest. They had helped to drive them off, but caring for so many children suffering the after effects of close contact with Azkaban guards had put a strain on Madame Pomfrey's resources. And patience.

"Probably not," Kentaro sighed, and settled Sasha on his back.

"Let's just get this over with," Sergei sighed, winced, and pushed open the doors.

Madame Pomfrey was standing in the middle of the room, her foot tapping.

"They sent an owl ahead about you lot, although I should have expected this.  _Train accidents? Dementor attacks?_  I'm going to have to retire if your club decides to continue to court disaster every four months."

"Yes, because we had so much control over those two events," Lucy grumbled.

Dimitri sighed, "We're sorry to tear you away from the feast, Madame Pomfrey, but the accident was not our idea."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Chernyshev. But if you keep trying to undo the countless hours of my best work that I have put into patching you all back together, I'm going to begin to think you don't appreciate it. And I already have Mr. Potter for that particular exasperation."

At this moment Sasha decided to pick her head up and moan, and Poppy snapped into action mode.

"All right, just set her down there Mr. Tsujimoto. Everyone take a bed, and I'll see if I can get you out for the end of the feast."

Sasha had a mild concussion. Once Madame Pomfrey was satisfied there was not any damage to the skull, she moved on to Sergei and Vlad. Whatever charm she cast seemed to be rather painful, but it also had the boys up and walking with little pain fifteen minutes later. Dimitri and Katya had some serious bruising, and Katya had a sprained wrist. Marguerite, sheltered beneath Sergei and Vald, had a few bumps and scratches, and bruise on her temple. Gisella, Aysha, and the twins had relatively minor injuries, and were cleared to leave after she had satisfied herself that there were no hidden ailments.

"All right Miss Montero, let's deal with that."

Lucy was suddenly apprehensive. "You know, I kind of like it at this angle."

"You'll have some trouble doing wand work that way, aren't you right handed?"

"I could use my left."

"Way I hear it, Miss Montero, you have enough trouble with your right. Now just stay still..."

Twenty minutes later the group left the hospital wing, although Sasha would be required to return to spend the night.

"They better have left us something to eat," Gisella growled, "I'm starving."

Lucy thought of the massive appetites of her housemates, and decided that she may need to swing by the kitchens before bed.

"How's the arm?" Dimitri examined the sling on her right arm.

She flexed her fingers, and inhaled sharply. "Still a bit on the painful side. Madame Pomfrey says it should feel better by morning, and I can take the sling off when I get to bed." She arranged her sleeves so the sling was not obvious.

"So, that letter..."

She rolled her eyes, "Honestly Chernyshev, after all that has happened you're still concerned about the letter from Krum?"

"Of course. You still have it, don't you?"

"Yes, I still have it. Why don't we wait for the meeting, and we can look at it then. It will give the Kornakovitch's time to translate it."

"Fine," the Slytherin tried not to sulk and failed.

The feast was still in full swing when they entered the hall. They would later learn that the Sorting had been delayed half an hour because most of the boats were swamped by the Giant Squid. Apparently, the new paint that had been used to cover the hulls had some unknown phosphorescent qualities during the full moon. While the Squid was more interested in playing with the boats than the students, the frantic first years had to be corralled, calmed, and dried out before the ceremony could take place. The poor first years were really having a tough first day.

"We'll discuss the meeting place and time later," Gisella patted Lucy's good arm.

"Right." Lucy returned Marguerite's little wave and slipped in between Nicholas Kornakovitch and William Lane at the Gryffindor table.

"Oy, hello again," William wiggled his eyebrows. Apparently not many people had noticed their absence.

Lucy piled a few vegetables on her plate before producing the letter from her pocket. She handed Nicholas the first page.

"Can you read that?"

Nicholas frowned, put down his turkey leg, and quickly wiped his hands on his pants leg. "Let's see it..."

Lucy grimaced, but handed it over.

As he read, a frown appeared between his eyebrows. Finally he looked up, confused.

"Lucy, where did you get this?"

Lucy looked at the students packed closely together up and down the table.

"I'll tell you later, but can I take that as a 'yes, I can read this'?"

Nicholas nodded impatiently, "Of course, it's in Bulgarian, we moved there from Yugoslavia when Svetlana was four. Who sent this, where's the rest of the letter?"

"I have it. You can read it later, when you are somewhere a little less public." She wasn't risking another Dimitri level freak out when Nicholas found out the letter was from that Vincent Krum person.

"Huh?"

"Trust me."

Nicholas shrugged and handed her the paper back.

Lucy turned back to her dinner. "Oh, by the way, what did the first page say?"

"It said that the students of Durmstang are interested in forming an alliance with the Hogwarts International Society for the increased flow of information and mutual protection of all."

Nicholas took a large bite of his turkey leg as Lucy choked on her broccoli and had to be pounded on the back by William.

They were going to have to arrange that meeting, and fast.

* * *

Lucy's absence had not been noticed by her year mates, most likely because she had never really been a consistent train companion. In any case, it meant a blessed lack of questions about her delayed entrance, for which she was very grateful.

 When the meal was over, the song was sung, and it was time to make the trip up to the tower, she heard a familiar voice behind her. "First years, Gryffindors, follow me!"

Hermione Granger, her Head Girl badge perfectly straight, was standing on her tiptoes and waving her hand in the air as she directed the newest Gryffindors out of the hall and up the stairs.

"This way, follow me! You there, not that way! Stop! You're following the wrong house, they're going to the dungeons, the  _Gryffindors_  are this way!"

As Hermione hopped up and down midway up the staircase, Ron strode forward, leaned into the mass of Slytherin students with a mild display of disgust, pulled the wayward boy out of the huddle by his sweater with one arm, shoving him back into the center of the swarming Gryffindor mass.

Crisis averted, Hermione continued guiding the students toward the tower, and Lucy watched in amusement as first Harry, then Ron again managed to nip the wayward first year back into line as he repeatedly took the wrong turn, first accompanying the Ravenclaws, then the Hufflepuffs.

Chandrika laughed, "Get the feeling he doesn't want to be in this house?"

"We're going to need a leash." Wesley Lane added.

Lucy chuckled, and waited patiently as Hermione murmured "Fortitudo," which finally ended the Fat Lady's rambling account of July's "Where's Winifred?" contest in which the castle ghosts competed to be the first to locate Winifred Waltzingham, a Hogwarts headmistress from the 17th century, who wandered through the galleries every summer. The contest was made more difficult by the fact that she had been painted in miniature and consequentially was only five inches high, and never stayed in the same painting for more than a day. Annoyed that Hermione had cut her off before she could finish her description of the Bloody Baron trying to beat information out of Sir Cudugeon, the Fat Lady stuck out her tongue and the doorway swung open.

Watching the firsties catch their first glimpse of the common room was amusing. The wandering boy even finally stood still for five seconds.

Hermione began directing the newcomers to their rooms. Lucy was tempted to search out Nicholas and have him read the final page of the letter, but he had already found his year mates and charged up the stairs. Just as she was about to go in search of him she felt a tug on her arm.

Lavender Brown, beautifully tanned, was pulling her towards the stairs, Parvati was walking along beside her.

"What's going on?"

Parvati tossed her head. "She's gone _mental_ , that's what's happened. Just about every single event since the Express left the station has been "the last time," and Lavender has gone mad on sentimentality."

Lavender gave Paravati a pitying look. "Just you wait, spring will come and our Hogwarts career will be over and  _then_  you'll wish you'd savored every last moment."

"And  _you_  are going to, is that it?" Lucy queried.

Lavender nodded. Parvati snorted again.

"Don't look at me like that lovey, the day you savor a Potions Exam is the day McGonagall strips naked and paints herself red and gold."

Lavender shuddered, " _That_  is a perfectly  _horrible_  mental image to throw at me when I'm in such a vulnerable state."

"Well, now, technically it would be a brilliant display of house spirit." Lucy added.

"She wasn't talking about McGonagall in the buff," Parvati added quietly as she started up the stairs.

Lucy chuckled.

"It's not funny, a Potions exam is proven to reverse the effects of an entire month's worth of anti-aging beautification spells."

"Well, I dare say the joyous moment of graduation and the promise of leaving Snape behind forever will set things to rights."

That seemed to cheer Miss Brown up considerably, she trotted to catch up with them and tuck both her arms through their elbows, as had been her initial plan.

"We'll cross the threshold of the seventh year girls bedroom together...and in years to come we'll look back on this day..."

"And remember how tempted I was to toss you back down the stairs."

Lavender's sentimentality was unphased by Parvati's sarcasm, and Lucy swore the girl nearly wept when she pushed open the door, and tried to pull Lucy and Parvati through with her.

"Ow."

Lucy's already tender arm scraped the doorframe as a surprisingly strong Lavender pulled her through, and she bit down on her tongue not to scream. The last thing she needed was for  _these_  two to start asking questions. There was a clever cartoon of two Nifflers drawn on a stall in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and although they were only identified with initials, everyone knew to whom they referred.

Trying not to giggle at the memory of Lavender's face on a Niffler, Lucy surveyed their new room. The canopied beds which looked just the same as last year, but with the addition of a large and comfy sofa against the wall in the space that was normally occupied by Hermione's bed. There was also an arm chair and foot stool with a crazy floral pattern. Because seventh years occupied the highest rooms in the tower, the ceiling was not the normal flat ceiling they were used to. It sloped upward from the windows all the way to the wall that the door was on, displaying lovely rafters and giving the place the feel of a palace.

Lavender was looking out the window. "It's so high..."

Parvati shrugged and opened her trunk. "It's exactly twelve feet higher than our room last year."

Lucy decided that unpacking was over rated and collapsed on the sofa.

"So where does Hermione live now?"

"In the Head Girl's quarters. I hope we get to have a look, they are supposed to be fabulous. Private bath, your own sitting room, personal house elf, although I suppose Hermione won't be too keen on that, did I mention the private bath?"

"Makes you wish you'd worked a little harder, lovey?"

"Not at all. Not even the chance to escape sharing a bathroom with hordes of females could induce me to spend any more time identifying entrails than I already have."

Parvati smiled as she set up the mahogany stand she kept her gazing globes in, standard equipment for her level of Advanced Divination. "Actually, there should be a secret entrance somewhere around here. When Percy Weasley was head boy he had a door that opened from his sitting room directly into Gryffindor tower. Can't remember where it came out though, I think it might have moved around. Whatever the case, Fred and George Weasley found a way in one night and pretended to be Sirius Black. Apparently Percy was so terrified he wet the bed. Denies it to this day of course. But Penelope said he slept with the light on for weeks afterwards."

Lucy had never met Percy Weasley, but she substituted Ron in her mental picture and was sufficiently amused. Lucy didn't hate Ron, and _technically_ Ron didn't hate Lucy either. Ever since she had become better skilled at blending in and not acting like a Western Circle witch, most people, when they noticed her at all, treated her relatively normally. However, Ron had never quite forgotten about or adjusted to her "different talents", specifically that one time she'd lost control and nearly (accidentally) brained Hermione with a chess set. As a result she sometimes caught him looking at her as one might examine a strangely ticking suitcase abandoned in the airport. Just wondering how long until it went Boom.

"Well, now there's something you don't see every day." Parvati stood by the window, polishing one of her gazing globes with a silk cloth. Lavender and Lucy joined her.

"Poor firsties, must have been terrified."

"You know, from up here it looks kind of cute."

Not even Parvati made a comment about the possible over-sentimentality of the moment as the three girls remained in silence by the window, watching the giant squid toss glow-in-the dark boats about like bath tub toys.

 


	3. Visitations and Invitations

**_"He whose ranks are united in purpose will be victorious."_ **

**_~Sun Tzu_ **

 

"Lucy... come and play!"

The forest path was shaded and cool, and she reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and dragged up the mountainside by the enthusiastic Egyptian child. He looked different for some reason. But he also looked bathed, which was a refreshing surprise.

She shouldn't be here.

Why that popped into her mind she didn't know.

"Omiri, I shouldn't be here, I can't play now."

"Just for a minute, come on."

They emerged in a clearing, and Lucy realized they were far up the mountain, above the bushline. She peered down into the valley, where low clouds obscured her view of the river.

How did she know there was a river there? She shouldn't know that.

Knowing that was bad. She was pretty sure it was bad.

But Omiri was at her side again, pulling her hand and dragging her over to where the children were standing in a circle. Regina was in the middle, a blindfold in her hand and a smile on her face.

"Ohh no, no blindfolds! You'll let me wander right off the mountainside."

"We will not!"

"You let me walk off the cliff last time!"

"But you landed in the water!"

"Ice cold water!"

Before she could protest again too many pairs of arms had a hold of her and her vision was reduced to nothing but the smelly inside of a scarf that in all likelihood had previously been used as a dishtowel.

She could do nothing but wander, arms outstretched, listen, and hope to catch one of the little monsters before she pitched off the side of the mountain.

"Over here!"

"Lucy."

"You can't catch me!"

_"Lucy."_

Their voices were getting farther and farther away.

"Where are you guys?"

"We can't tell."

_"LUCY! DO YOU WANT TO BE LATE ON YOUR LAST FIRST MORNING AT HOGWARTS!"_

The mountain was gone, as was the tranquility and happiness, and in its place stood Lavender Brown, dressing gown clad with her towel in her hand.

"Let's get going, before Peeves decides to turn the hot water cold."

Lucy mumbled something and got up.

She had been dreaming, but it had been strangely real. Omiri, Regina, and the others had not looked exactly as they had when she last saw them. They were cleaned, and wearing clothes other than the paltry few outfits they had worn that summer. It was very weird. And the place they were playing, she supposed it must have been somewhere they stopped over the summer, but she didn't remember taking them into the mountains. It would have been too cold.

_Where are you guys?...We can't tell_

Well that was for damn sure.

Trying to forget why the dream had unsettled her, Lucy flipped open her trunk, relieved that Zhara had put her uniforms on top, pulled out a set, and after a bit of blind rummaging, pulled out a towel. Satisfied that she could mooch shampoo off of someone, she set out for the showers, hoping some steam would drive the uneasiness out of her mind.

Her hair was cleaner, she certainly smelled better, but the dream persisted.

"You're going to miss breakfast Lucy!" Lavender, perfectly coiffed, breezed past her.

She was missing one sock and her tie, and it took a tremendous amount of will power not to summon the pins out of Lavender's fancy upsweep. Instead she flipped her trunk open again, pulling shirts off the top, placing them on the bed, hoping the rest of her uniform was somewhere near the top.

That was when she saw the package.

It was squarish and dense, wrapped in brown paper. Lucy untied the string and unfolded the wrapper.

A dozen tanned, beaming faces smiled back at her.

Her heart clutched and she sat down hard on the bed.

It was Fiji, one of their first stops, Omari and Perseus stood proudly in front of a giant sandcastle, many of the other children were sprawled on the sand in front. In the far upper left hand corner of the picture the top of a diving mask and a protruding snorkle could be seen sticking out of the sand. Lucy smiled, Diego had spent the better part of the afternoon under that castle, yelling through that tube.

" _Where are you guys?...We can't tell."_

Lucy flipped through the next few pictures, India, Thailand, Micronesia, Palau, Sri Lanka, Athens... the clothes got shabbier, but the smiles never dimmed.

They'd spent the entire summer together, she, Diego, Diego's girlfriend Zahra, and 37 students from Cairo's Imhotep Academy, between the ages of 8 and 12.

The next photo, taken from atop China's Great Wall, showed the frowning forms of several young boys writing in chalk along the stones, and if you squinted, you could make out the phrases. That is, if you spoke and read Quechua. She grinned, it had been one of her more creative punishments.

They had been difficult, at times. Criminally difficult, to owe the whole truth.

But they had been marvelous under the circumstances.

The school had been evacuated in June during a Death Eater attack focused on the student dormitories. Under the orders of Imhotep's librarian, Zahra's father, the three older students had gated the children out of danger, and had then been stuck moving them from place to place for the next few months.

And then they were gone.

Lucy tied the package back up and tucked it under her pillow.

She didn't know where they were, she _couldn't_. The children, along with all the other young students in the Western Circle, had been taken to Sanctuary. Sanctuary was not so much a place as a state of being. Intentionally, no one else knew where Sanctuary was, and it was the continued focus of the Circle on obscuring the location of the students, wherever they may be, that kept anyone else from finding them.

Lucy tied her shoes and tried to push the idea out of her head. They weren't even supposed to  _think_  about Sanctuary that much, especially those with the gift of Farsight, because they may unconsciously See Sanctuary. If you discovered where it was, you cracked the Sanctuary Spell, and opened it up to being cracked open by the probes of magic.

Which, she decided as she hurried downstairs, was why the dream was so disturbing. It _wasn't_ a memory, she'd never seen the children in those clothes. It was possible that some of them were broadsending in their sleep.

And she was picking it up. It wouldn't be surprising, she'd had some problems with a few of the boys nightmares over the summer.

But if they were sending her pictures of Sanctuary, and she recognized it, it could be very, very bad. She was going to have to block them, or learn how to selectively Obliviate.

All in all this was entirely too much to think about before breakfast.

* * *

 

The Great Hall was not as full as usual for breakfast. It looked like Lucy hadn't been the only one having difficulty getting going that morning.

She slid into a spot at the table next to Parvati.

"Nice timing," she commented while passing Lucy the platter of toast, "Five minutes earlier and you would have been forced to listen to Miss Browning wax poetic about the marmalade. Consider yourself lucky and for gods sake don't ask her to pass you anything. Dean asked for the eggs and was rewarded with a seven minute description of our first breakfast together."

"I'll keep that in mind." Unfortunately, Lavender was currently in possession of all the jams and jellies.

"I hate plain toast," she mumbled, searching about for the pumpkin juice.

A jar slid over and stopped next to her plate.

"Try that," William Lane was grinning at her down the table.

Lucy dipped her knife into the dark brown spread, slathered a healthy quantity on her toast, brought it to her lips, and promptly dropped it back on her plate.

"What is it?"

She turned the jar around. 

"I thought as much. This stuff tastes like soy sauce."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It's not exactly a breakfast food."

"Well, if you'd rather ask Lavender for the butter, but I'm pretty sure Neville would advise you against that."

She sighed, took a bite of her toast, and wondered how Vegimite had ever become such a popular spread.

"Schedules," Hermione laid a stack down in the middle of the table, and the next few moments were filled with the typical organized chaos. Eventually Lucy found her schedule passed into her hand.

"Double potions with the Slytherins...again. Well it's nice to know some things never change."

Indeed, the only new addition to the list for Lucy was Apparator's Education. Not that this was a positive change. Some of the older seventh years had taken the class in sixth year, and their incredibly detailed and gruesome descriptions of splinching were enough to keep Lucy gating forever.

_:How are your Tuesday and Thursday evenings looking:_  The voice in her head was a familiar one. **  
**

She glanced up and saw Bet's raised eyebrows across the Hall.

_:Same as last year, you can still meet at that time?:_

_:Yes. As long as it's after six, Snape's asked me to run a review session for the Arithmancy II Slytherins. It appears they all barely squeaked by their final exam last year and he's been hearing about it. Doesn't want them to reflect poorly on the house, or some such nonsense. It counts for my term project for Arithmancy V.:_

_:Works out nicely then.:_

_:Indeed. Leaves me more time to devote to-:_

_:Extra-curricular activities of the money making kind:_ Bet's poker and dice games, among other money making endeavors, practically constituted a full time job.

_:Exactly. Speaking of those, I heard a rumor about you and a bunch of the international students and the Express.:_

_:Um, I was in Cleveland:_

_:Right, nevermind then. You're ok:_

_:I'm fine. I'll tell you once we've figured out what the hell happened.:_

_:Right. So, I've got App. Ed. with Rasheph this afternoon, I'll tell him to spread the word to Magnus, Tuesday night, eight:_

_:I'll track down Lynx, make sure he remembers to show Agatha the way in to the workroom.:_

_:Oooh, I almost forgot about her. We ought to come up with some scary initiation rite for her and Magnus.:_

_:I was thinking of making them spend their first few days studying under Lynx. That's scary enough.:_

_:It's downright cold, that's what it is.:_

* * *

"And please remember that this term you will be responsible for an independent project. We will discuss the guidelines next time, proposals due in two weeks. Be advised that, given the requirements that lower level astronomy classes place on the Tower, I have reserved the faculty- research tower for your observations. I trust you will not abuse this privilege."

The class snickered.

"Yes yes, well, I'm finished, be off with you."

The seventh years, by now well used to Sinastra's little quirks, gathered up their charts and made for the door. Lucy was pondering making a quick stop by the BA workroom to check on things when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned to see the smiling face of Lukas Getman, a fifth year Hufflepuff and member of the International Society.

"Hey Lucy."

"Lucas, have a good summer?"

"Can't complain, you?"

"I can, unfortunately. So what's the message?"

"Tonight, dinner meeting, can you tell your people?"

Lucy cringed. " _Never_ refer to the Lane brothers as "my people". Ever. And where do you plan on having this soiree?"

"The Hufflepuff private dining room."

"You have a _private_ dining room?"

"Of course. Be at the bottom of the main staircase at six o'clock and we'll collect you."

"All right."

"Oh, and Lucy, tell the Slytherins for me?"

Lucy sighed, "You're going to have to grow up sometime, you realize this?"

"Listen, you have an advantage, you know, over Easter you lot, like, bonded."

"We were nearly asphyxiated inside the home of a sarcastic megalomanic and were forced to escape through a window!"

" _Da_ , like I said, you bonded. They seem to like you, they certainly roll their eyes less when they see you, and most importently, I drew the short straw, Vladimir is the only Slytherin I have class with, and he has never forgiven me for consistently getting higher marks in Ancient Runes. Let me off the hook, I beg you."

"You know that this pathetic whining is the reason Hufflepuffs are universally mocked, don't you?"

"Mocked yes, beat up, no, we leave that to cheeky Gryffindors by having the good sense not to butt in where we aren't wanted."

"Fair enough. I'll swing by their table at lunch."

"Better you than me."

"Coward!"

"Hey be nice or we won't feed you. See you tonight."

* * *

At five minutes to six, the Gryffindors descended the staircase into the main entrance hall. A few moments later the Slytherins emerged from the hall leading down towards the dungeons.

Kentaro looked past them, up the stairs. "Where's the Ravenclaws?"

Alessandra Dicus scoffed, "They probably already knew where it was."

"Where it vas, how it vas furnished, and zee names of every person to set foot in it in zee past ten years." Katya huffed. Normally her accent was not so pronounced, but she appeared irritated, and Katya always sounded more Russian when she was irritated.

Dimitri headed straight for Lucy. "Do you have it?"

Lucy snorted, "What, did you think I would lose it in the past 24 hours?"

This apparently did not register with Dimitri, who waited impatiently for an answer.

"Yes, of course I have it. It would make the meeting rather pointless without it, don't you think? As it was I nearly tore it trying to get it back from  _that_ adolescent twit." Honestly, it was one Quidditch player, what was the big deal?

She jerked her shoulder towards Nicholas, who stuck out his tongue.

"Svetlana was nice enough to write up copies of a translation, so everyone can have a read."

"Is that a good idea?"

Lucy shrugged, "Can't hurt. I'm not sure why we aren't talking about this openly anyway, but seeing as we are not, the ink has not been activated yet, and once it is it won't last for more than two hours. I'd say the secret is safe."

"Clever trick."

Marguerite had told her about it, but Lucy wasn't about to tell that to Dimitri.

At the stroke of six, Karol Cjakowski, a towheaded Hufflepuff second year from Krakow, came down the stairs. He looked extremely proud to have been given this responsibility.

"I'm supposed to take you up the back way, follow me."

Rather then taking them back up the stairs, he headed off down the right hand corridor, turning before they got to the library, turning again, pretty soon Lucy was completely lost.

He moved surprisingly fast for so stout a fellow, and she had to stretch her legs to keep up.

"The food better be worth it," Vladimir puffed along next to her.

"All the food in this castle comes from the same place, I doubt we have to worry."

"True. So have you come up with any theories on who blew up the train?"

Lucy raised her eyebrows. "You're not serious."

"Huh?"

"It would take a fanatical amount of work to ferret out the details of the investigation, the timing, the suspected device, and suspicious characters all in less than 24 hours."

"Well, yes, I suppose, but you really haven't thought of anything?"

"There isn't a point, Vlad."

"What do you mean! We were att-"

Lucy placed her fingers over his mouth as Karol stopped them in a dimly lit hall and began opening the first of eight broom cupboards.

"There's no point in  _me_  doing all that, not when the Ravenclaws will have it all sorted out by now anyway."

Vlad grinned.

"Just a minute," Karol was apologizing, "the staircase moves, don't step in there yet, you'll fall straight to the dungeons...here we are. Everyone up."

They then climbed what had to be the narrowest, twistiest stone spiral staircase ever created. It was nearly completely dark, Lucy kept her hand against the wall, and was nearly blinded when she came around a corner and was hit by the light bursting through the open door.

Well, she never would have thought it, but it appeared that it was good to be a Hufflepuff.

* * *

"It makes no sense."

"That's your conclusion? I don't believe it. We were counting on you guys to-"

" _If_  you will let me finish, despite the fact that the bombing doesn't make the least lick of sense, we are not without our theories. Marguerite, the slides, if you please."

Nicholas' jaw dropped. "They have  _slides_? We've been here less than a day and they have  _slides?_ "

Next to him an unperturbed Lucy grinned at Dimitri as she reached across to serve herself a third helping of pudding.

Sometimes you just wanted to hug the Ravenclaws. They were spooky sons of bitches, but they were efficient.

Marguerite waved her wand at the far wall, and the occupants of all six tables swiveled in their very comfy chairs to watch a screen appear. At Sergei's nod, Marguerite flicked her wand again, and the first slide appeared on the screen.

"As you can see from this photograph of the damage..."

"When did they take  _that_?"

"I think Aysha took it before we were herded onto the train..."

"Shhh!"

"The point of detonation can clearly be seen here. An initial sample analysis suggests that the cause was actually tri-nitro-toluene."

"Tri-nitro-what?"

"TNT, a common non-magical explosive."

"Non-magical?"

"Correct, however it is still possible that magic was used to trigger the explosion. In classical uses of TNT, a long fuse is used to trigger an explosion, so that the individual lighting the fuse might be far enough from the explosion to remain unharmed. However, that would require the remains of such a fuse to be found in adjacent cars to the blast sight, and none were found."

Lucy had a sick feeling in her gut, why would they use TNT?

"There is also the matter of the minor explosions."

"Minor explosions," Katya replied archly.

"Indeed. Being involved in the accident as you were, you could not have known that there were additional disturbances in three other parts of the train. A loud sound, and a slight tremor were heard and felt, but nothing akin to what you experienced. No residue was found after a thorough examination of the train."

Lucy decided that how the Ravenclaws managed to organize a thorough examination of the train was just another of their many mysteries. And may the little Gods bless them for it.

Vlad put down his fork, "So, if there was no residue, were there any explosions at all?"

"Not that we can conclude. The effects observed could be the result of an advanced glamour."

"What would be the purpose?"

"It could be that they were meant to distract the aurors on the train from the real explosion in the back. Given where they were located at the time, they would move towards the phantom explosions first. This would delay them from reaching where the last car detached."

"Providing time for someone to get away."

"Exactly, it was at least twenty minutes before the aurors even reached the last car."

"More than enough time."

Lucy thought of the footsteps outside in the snow.

"Why would they have been interested in hanging around the car?"

"What?"

Lucy described the footsteps.

"You think someone was trying to get into the car?"

"Someone definitely tried the door. The luggage was pushed up against it and it wouldn't open."

Warren shook his head, "They didn't say anything?"

"Like what? 'Are there any students buried under six tons of luggage?' This wasn't a rescue attempt, if that's what you were after."

Aysha sighed. "I knew we should have sent out scouts."

"The train was  _leaving_  Aysha, sending more students out into the dark was not an option."

"We will evaluate theories as to the individual outside the last car and present them at the meeting next week."

Lucy pulled her head up. "We're having a meeting next week?"

Gisella raised her eyebrow. "Of course, to review the responses we receive to the letters."

Alessandra Dicus shook her head. "What letters?"

Sergei sighed, as if explaining something to a small child. "The ones we are going to send out in response to the invitations we were sent. Which brings us to the other item on the agenda, the invitations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Svetlana, Marguerite, the translations, if you please."

With a flick of their wrists, the two girls distributed one copy each of both letters in front of every individual.

"Marguerite, why don't you read it aloud for us?"

The small girl smiled nervously, but spoke in a strong, clear voice.

" _To the International Students Society of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:_

_It is my responsibility and honor to convey to you the warmest greetings from your fellow students at Beauxbatons Academy. The exchange of words and ideas between our two institutions has been far too sparse, and the current student government wishes to change this situation."_

Nicholas interrupted. "Student government?"

Marguerite nodded. "Unlike Hogwarts, Beauxbatons has varied its organization over the years, and has been a little more politically attuned to the muggle government. Ever since the Revolution, Beauxbatons students have elected and run a student government, known as the Tribunal. Every student can vote for a president, vice president, secretary, treasurer, as well as a representative from each year, except the first years, whose interests are protected by student by-laws."

"And this Tribunal does what, exactly?"

"It protects the interests of the students, serves as a liason with the school governors and the headmistress, and regulates disputes that both parties would rather the faculty not be aware of."

"So, the teachers aren't involved?"

"Not formally. In fact, the Tribunal was a secret organization for years really, until former students became faculty and therefore already knew of it. The teachers are not involved, elections are still secret, but the staff usually has their ways of finding out who is in charge. The delegation, for the Triwizard Tournament three years ago, was almost entirely made up of current or former Tribunal members. They had to elect an interim president to run things at school when Fleur went away."

Aysha cleared her throat, "Can we move on, please?"

Marguerite blushed.

" _We have learned much from the recollections of our fellow students who visited you three years ago, and from the recent publicity surrounding the formation of your young society. You seem to be people of great courage. It is also encouraging to know that your members seem to have moved beyond the stringent boundaries Hogwarts places between students from opposing houses. This requires a certain level of enlightenment and tolerance, which demands respect and admiration._

_It is for these reasons that you have been chosen as a possible contact, a link, between our two schools._

_These are dark and dangerous times, and we as student body are quite confidant that our elders are not providing us with the information we deserve, especially as regards the developments and actions of dark wizards in Britain. And we are not so naive as to believe that what is happening in your world will not spread to ours. Indeed, signs are appearing to suggest it already has._

_Knowledge is power, and it seems only logical that it would be mutually beneficial for our two schools to establish a means of maintaining communication with each other. It is possible that through shared news and shared ideas we may serve to better protect each other from what is to come._

_Last year, as a result of friendships formed during the Tournament, a similar alliance was established between Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. It seemed natural, in the midst of all the rumors, for the continental schools to band together, especially considering all of the staff changes occurring at Durmstrang. With the graduation of the founders of that alliance, a more formal establishment of communication has already been agreed to, and it is at this time that we invite Hogwarts, through your society, to join us._

_If this arrangement is agreeable, please send word to France by owl. You may reach the Tribunal, which will be your contact, by writing to the current secretary, Odette Pasquier, at Beauxbatons Academy, France. They will respond within a week to set up terms and a schedule._

_Good Luck,_

_Fleur Delacouer, Beauxbatons alumnus and Tribunal President emeritus"_

"Fleur!" Lucas Gettman nearly fell out of his chair. " _She_  wrote the letter?"

Lucy looked around for an explanation. "Who is Fleur and why is Lucas hyperventilating?"

Katya snorted and leaned over. "She was the Beauxbatons Champion in the tournament. She's part veela, or so I've heard. An absolute knockout. It took weeks of training before the boys could see her and keep their tongues from falling out. She graduated that year, works in England."

"Probably why they had her write the letter of introduction, someone we knew about, that we trusted."

Svetlana poured herself another batch of pumpkin juice. "Makes sense, both non-Hogwarts champions were chosen as liasons, to get the ball rolling, because we would remember them."

Wesley lane, with the ears of a fox, perked up. "What do you mean,  _both_  non-Hogwarts champions?"

Svetlana waved her original copy of the Durmstrang letter. "Read, you idiot. Durmstrang contacted us through-"

_"Victor Krum!"_

And Lucas fell out of his seat again.

Lucy elbowed Nicholas. "I think this would be a good time for one of you to read it."

Svetlana was already on her feet.

**"International Society of Hogwarts-**

**I write you on behalf of the students of Durmstrang. In light of recent events and at the urging of our friends in France, they propose an alliance of information between your schools. Durmstrang students are certain they are not being told all they need to know. And if your Daily Prophet is any indication, you are not being told much that is useful either. In fact, the only person at your school who seems remotely connected to events in the outside world is Harry Potter, but he frequently seems to fall into catastrophe of some kind, and is therefore not a reliable source. Although his good friend Miss Granger is extremely competent."**

The Slytherins snickered, and Lucy herself could help chuckling. He was right, calamity seemed to follow Harry around just as closely as heroism and kudos.

**"Both Hogwarts and Durmstrang suffer from their remote locations, far from the events of the world. Schools can easily become prisons, however, before students are even aware of it. And it is only through staying adequately informed as to the true activities of our enemies that we can hope to escape the trap. It is this reason that prompts the students of Durmstrang to extend this invitation. You would be in touch with the Guard, a semi-secret student organization devoted to maintaining order on and off school grounds. They are trustworthy, and dedicated to protecting the students.**

**If you wish to pursue this arrangement, contact the Guard through their Secretary, Boris Kazimierz, Durmstrang Academy. You may send the letter by owl, and in English, Boris speaks it nearly fluently.**

**We trust you will see the wisdom in this arrangement.**

**Victor Krum**

**Durmstrang Alumnus, former Guard Sergeant at Arms"**

"I volunteer to read the Durmstrang letters, they seem to be a lot shorter than that flowery French s-"

Marguerite was glaring at Mikhail.

"-stuff," he finished diplomatically.

"Before we get down to that, is there a discussion about opening a means of correspondence between Hogwarts and the other schools."

"Since when do we speak for Hogwarts?"

"We won't be," Lucas stood up. "We won't be speaking for anyone. We will simply be telling them any information we pick up. Passing it along. If things keep getting worse than that could be vital. As is our getting any information  _they_  can find that doesn't make it into the questionable lines if the Daily Prophet."

"Lucas's right," Dimitri settled back in his seat, content to address the room from there. "We've been singled out because we are just about the only student group Hogwarts has that isn't restricted to one house. We don't have a student government, we don't have a Guard, whatever the hell that is, and while I'm sure I'm not the only one in this room who knows about a few of the secret societies that exist here, those groups are too secret to be used as a contact. In terms of organized student representation, we, I am sorry to say, are it."

There was a fair bit of silence, interrupted only when Svetlana swatted away Koji/Kentaro's attempt to grab Krum's letter for the third time.

"Krum did have a point about our being isolated up here." Mai added.

"It can't hurt, can it?" Karen Chao chimed in.

Gisella looked at Lucy, who looked at Dimitri, who looked at Sergei; they nodded.

"All in favor of trading information with the Continental wizards?"

The chorus of Ayes was loud enough not to warrant a tally of the dissenters.

"So," Sergei steepled his fingers on his chest, "How shall we go about doing this?"

Lucy shrugged. "It seems to me Marguerite is the best person to handle writing the Beauxbatons students, she understands them the best and can communicate in their own language."

Marguerite blushed. "We could always have someone write them in English, they do speak it, some of them. Maybe someone older?"

Dimitri shook his head. "But you're French, the only French student here. Your parents are ambassadors, your brother went to Beauxbatons, you're practically one of them."

"I'm a Ravenclaw!" The little blond girl put on a stubborn pout.

"Of course you are," Aysha patted her on the shoulder proudly, "Which is yet another reason why you would excell at this kind of a project, one that requires wit and diplomacy."

Gisella raised her eyebrow, "You aren't suggesting that we leave this all in the hands of the Ravenclaws do you? I don't think that would help our image of breaking down barriers and such."

Aysha shook her head. "Of course not. Actually, I was thinking Lucy would be a good choice for dealing with Durmstrang."

" _Me!_ " Lucy squeaked. "I don't speak a word of Russian, Slavic, or Bulgarian!" That was a lie, she spoke a few words, most of them involved in asking where to find a bathroom.

"They said that Boris fellow speaks English."

"Well in that case, _anyone_ could do it."

"Not anyone," Dimitri sighed. "It can't be a Slytherin."

Lucy stared at him. "And why on earth not?"

"Karkaroff," Katya snorted.

At Lucy's blank stare Vladimir elaborated

"Their old headmaster was kicked out when it was revealed he was a Death Eater. They have been extremely sensitive about insinuations of the school being evil ever since. They may be willing to communicate with us, but from their letter it sounds like they are only doing it at the urging of the Beauxbatons students. They don't really trust us yet. We give them a Slytherin correspondent and they'll think it's an insult. Trust me, I understand their sense of honor."

Lucy looked over the Slytherins, they were all nodding grimly.

"He's right," Sasha shrugged, "They know Slytherin's reputation. They may not believe it, but they won't appreciate the symbolism in us assigning the tainted school a tainted contact. It can't be one of us who writes to them."

"And the Hufflepuffs? Why can't they do it? They're adorable, everyone likes Hufflepuffs!"

Gisella laughed. "Reputation again, I'm afraid. In a way, we're in the same boat as the Slytherins. Durmstrangers are a touchy bunch. Just like you can't give them the most hated house, no offense, you can't give them the least distinguished either."

Lucy stared once again.

Lucas laughed. "Hufflepuffs are proud of the traits that bind us together, but we are smart enough to know that these are not necessarily aspects that other people respect or admire. We know we appear to be the least impressive house, it doesn't bother us like it will bother the Durmstrang students."

"They'll think it was a insult."

Lucy shook her head. "I still don't see why it should matter what house the person is from. Didn't they just tell us they were impressed with the fact that we had risen above all that?"

"That doesn't mean  _they_  have. It's diplomacy Lucy. The French students won't mind Marguerite's age because she's French. And they'll prefer the Ravenclaws because that's the house they were pretty chummy with when they came for the tournament."

Everyone nodded.

"Durmstrang is a different story. You never met them, but they notice _everything,_ and the Russian federation in general have a strong class system. They won't be satisfied with a second year, they'll want one of the oldest students, which, by the way, you happen to be. And they will want someone from a distinguished house. Everyone knows Harry Potter is a Gryffindor, you can't get more distinguished than the house of the TriWizard Champion."

Lucy looked from nodding face to nodding face. "So, I'm stuck with this, is what you are telling me. There is no way to get out of being Boris's penpal for the year?"

"Nope," William looked ridiculously pleased.

Lucy sighed, because she didn't have enough to do already.

"Well," Gisella cracked her knuckles. "Why don't we get a group organized to draft our first letter to each school, stating our intentions and gratitude, etc? Like an opening statement?"

Sergei nodded. "Good idea. It can set the tone for the year. After that Lucy and Marguerite can keep the contacts open, we can discuss any pertinent information to send at meetings and they can compose their own letters to Odette and Boris."

Dimitri leaned back even further in his chair. "We also ought to devise a way for this information to reach all of us in a speedy manner, in case something is urgent. We can't just call a meeting every time a tidbit pops up. And waiting for a meeting to find out might not be practical."

"Enchanted noteboard," Aysha murmered to Sergei.

"Of course, but the that's temporary, it erases after what, an hour? We want a record..."

"Enchanted notebook than."

"Oh, that's good. There are several Welsh charms that work very well for that sort of work."

"I was thinking more along the lines of allez ink, but that could be another way to go..."

"Well, we could combine them, like a Juntosimini spell-"

Katya had had enough. "English if you don't mind!"

Sergei blushed. "We were just discussing a faster way to deliver information without holding a meeting every week. But this will take a little time."

"Which means we  _will_  need a meeting next week." Gisella sighed. "The house elves are going to require a little attention to swing another special meal. Ok, same time next week. Anyone interested in working on the opening statements meet in the library tomorrow after dinner. Does that work?"

Everyone nodded. Lucy sighed, they were going to have to push back the BA meeting. And she was supposed to start observations to get ideas for her Astronomy project.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible that it was the first day of school and she was exhausted already.

She took it all back. The Ravenclaws were evil.

 


	4. Running Blind

**" _We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future."_**

**_~George Bernard Shaw_ **

"Agatha, stop fidgeting."

"Look at the grass!" This statement, delivered with all the awe and wonder at everyday objects normally reserved for those on acid trips, caused Lucy to sharply examine her new student's pupils.

"Agatha," she kept her voice very calm, "You washed your hands really well between Herbology and lunch, right?"

"Yes, yes," came the irritated reply from Agatha's mouth, which was very close to the ground now as she inspected the lawn with singular focus.

"What do you supposed they use to cut the grass?"

"Hmmm?" Lucy rolled her eyes, "I have no idea. Don't you know how wizards mow the lawn?"

"I live in the Farm, we haven't got a lawn."

"No grass, on a farm?"

"Not  _a_  farm,  _the_  Farm, Broadwater Farm Estate, in Haringey. It's all paved over, but look here, it's too short to be growing on its own, but it can't have been cut mechanically, because the vines are intact."

"What vines? The place looks like a golf course."

"Here," Lucy found herself facedown in the dirt rather unexpectedly. She'd say this for the city girl, Agatha certainly wasn't delicate.

"See the vines? They wind around the stem, and if you pinch them- see! They move! And they pull the grass with them."

Lucy had no idea the landscaping at Hogwarts was so complex. "And what, new grass comes up to replace the old grass and the old grass dies. Biological lawn care. Typical Hogwarts. Why simply make an effort when there is probably a magical creature that will do it for you. This grass is scratchy anyway, a golf course would be better."

Agatha, an Herbology wiz apparently, happily chirped on about grass species that had been domesticated by wizards for food and defense, and practical jokes, for another ten minutes before abruptly stopping, settling herself on the lawn, and staring at Lucy intently.

Lucy sighed with relief. This was Agatha's pattern, she'd learned. She had a voracious appetite for knowledge, and Lucy had wondered at first why the girl wasn't in Ravenclaw. Then she realized that Agatha's record attention span was about nine and a half minutes. She flitted from one subject to a completely unrelated topic, the connection clear in her brain, but often a mystery to those around her.

It was one of the reasons they were having this lesson outside. The winds had picked up as September rolled on, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant out of doors. Inside there were far too many distractions. The library was out of the question, as Agatha's interest in everything clearly extended to people as well. With her keen observation skills, but small circle of friends, she rarely had someone with whom to share her discoveries on the intricate social structure of the Slytherin gambling set, or the latest gossip about who was dating Hesperus Hedgepeth this week. Lucy had no desire to be that person, so it was best to remove Agatha from temptation.

"All right, now let's being with the breathing exercise. Focus only on the breath, in, and out, hear your heartbeat and nothing-"

"HEY! LUCY!"

"-else."

She dropped her head in defeat. Agatha's aura, which had been slowing down, was now alert and pulsing erratically as she jerked her head up and scanned for the source of the interruption. He was sitting about a hundred meters further down the lake, waving cheerfully.

Lucy sighed, " _Yes Lynx_ " she spoke very clearly in his head, if a bit loud.

"OW!"

" _Don't be such a baby. You can hear me."_

"YEAH! BUT IT MAKES MY HEAD ITCH!"

" _That's because you are fighting it. You need to exhale, pretending I am standing next to you, and listen."_

"WHAT?"

" _Listen."_

"WHAT!"

Lucy jumped to her feet. "I SAID LISTEN! YOU IMPOSSIBLE, ENCOURIGABLE,-"

She stopped when she saw Lynx laughing hard enough to fall off his log, collapsing in the sand, his shoulders shaking. He'd done it on purpose. Again.

"Stay here Agatha."

"Don't hurt him Lucy."

"He'll live." She stomped down the shore to where Lynx lay on the sand, pursing his lips together in a futile attempt to smother his laughter, resulting in a shockingly scarlet face against his white blond hair.

He brushed the hair out of his eyes and squinted up at her. "Gotcha."

Lucy merely scanned the shoreline. The wind was picking up, pushing waves against the beach, and it didn't take much of a gust to push the next set a few feet further.

She deftly stepped up onto the log as the water surged below her feet, soaking the smug Hufflepuff.

His scream caused Agatha to jump to her feet.

"YOU PROMISED!"

"HE'S ALIVE!" Lucy shouted back.

Alive and soaked from the back of his socks to the hood of his sweatshirt.

"If we are all going to work amidst distraction today, which was the intended assignment, now yours will be the basic distraction of the cold and wet."

She smiled, and gestured to the stones on the shore. "Now, call me, _politely_ , when you have them stacked and balanced."

"Wouldn't now be an excellent time to work on the firestarting skill?" Lynx shivered and gave her his most pathetic expression.

Lucy rolled her eyes. "You can lay a twig on top and light it, it will make it pretty, but nothing else, and you better find a dry one- check under the tree."

"I can light a wet one."

"I don't want you lighting anything other than kindling until we have this under control. Light the twig, and don't char it, CONTROL, remember?"

Lynx rolled his eyes, wrung out his sleeves, and set to work.

Lucy returned to Agatha, who seemed to realize what kind of a mood she was in and was waiting patiently.

"Ok, the breathing exercise."

The exercise went well, and Lucy was hopeful they would reach a new work record of 6 straight minutes when Agatha said, abruptly.

"What is the point?"

She bit her tongue, and counted backwards in three languages. Agatha was turning out to be  _her_ new exercise in patience and control. Her saving grace was that the girl never asked the same question twice.

"The point is that these exercises help you focus on you, your own patterns, in breathing, circulation, energy pulses, and you have to know yourself very, very well before you can begin to work with energies and matter that is not of yourself."

"How long does it take to know yourself?"

"Sounds like a question for a philosopher or a guru, of which, I am neither. But to know yourself well enough to start working outside yourself, it depends. When you can ground and center, and shield. Those are the most important."

"How long did it take you?"

"It was a long time ago," she said shortly. Truthfully, she didn't like thinking back on her early days of training. It brought up too many memories of home, of Diego, who was far away, and her father, who was even farther. "But I had a relentless teacher."

"Relentless, how?"

"Well, when we were working on this stuff, we would work in the deepest darkest room in the school, so I couldn't rely on my other senses, I had to Look and Listen without my eyes and ears."

"You weren't scared of the dark?"

"Nope," Lucy chuckled, "I never was. It did backfire a little, in that I would run around the school at night in the pitch black. Which scared the beejeesus out of the other professors."

"Because you ran into them a lot."

"No, they were pretty easy to see and sense. People in general are- in fact, one of the first games we played was double-blind tag- with my brother and I both blindfolded and relying on Sight to get each other. Which was fun, until Diego turned 9 and his Sight became better than mine and I never won again. I had to settle for making him find me in really difficult to get places, I was still smaller. The big problem was that I wasn't so good with inanimate objects, I hit a lot of ladders and doors. Antolin lived in dread I would fall down the stairs or off a roof and break my neck."

"Blind hide and seek sounds like fun."

"We can play it as soon as you master these exercises."

Chagrined, Agatha went back to her breathing.

Five minutes later…

"So why do you have to keep practicing this stuff- what's it good for if you already can see in the dark?"

"Well, your body changes as you age, as you exercise different gifts, and the basics are also necessary for-"

" _BUGGER!"_

BOOM!

Lucy immediately swiveled her head left to see the whisps of smoke and smell the unmistakable traces of broken sulpher bonds coming from a spot 100 meters down the shoreline.

"Necessary for control," she groaned, and leapt to her feet, with Agatha right behind.

They found Lynx on his back, his hands over his face, next to a toppled pile of rocks and, Lucy groaned, a small soaking wet piece of driftwood. Kindling, she'd told him. But did he listen? Did he ever?

"This is so humiliating," Lynx groaned from behind his hands.

"What is it?" Agatha, fascinated, leaned in, but Lucy's restraining hand on her shoulder kept her from getting too close.

"You all right?" Lucy asked.

"Don't laugh," with a sigh, the Hufflepuff lowered his hands.

"Wicked," Agatha breathed.

Lucy's mouth may have tweaked up at the corners, but to her credit, she did not laugh, she merely sighed.

"Not again."

Lynx's white blond eyebrows had been burnt clean off.

* * *

The whole situation was a mess. With Lynx laid up re-growing eyebrows (and several vital nerves required to show emotion) she'd had to foist Agatha and Magnus's next lessons on Bet so she could make it to the BA meeting to draft the letter to Durmstang.

The same meeting that had turned into a total fiasco, and lasted over an hour before Lucy, realizing that they would never get anything accomplished if every phrase had to be unanimously agreed upon, called a halt. She would write the damn thing herself, promising to be as diplomatic as possible and upon her head be it if she so insulted this Boris fellow that she bungled the whole thing.

"He better have a good sense of humor," she muttered to herself as she sat by the lake, not far from the site of Lynx's disastrous attempt to delicately combust driftwood, quill out, parchment spread over a book on her knees and tried to describe Hogwarts in a completely honest and unbiased way.

**"It's cold, drafty, and inhabited by several hundred hormonal adolescents, all with itchy wand arms, no respect for natural order, and miniature God complexes."**

She began to realize that this might have been a very big mistake. As she tried to determine what Gisella would consider diplomatic, she was distracted by a song that kept running through her head.

_I hear the train a comin, it's comin' round the bend, and I ain't seen the sun shine since, I don't when. I'm stuck in Folsem Prison, and I can't get free._

Prison, appropriate, and yet perhaps a titch exaggerated. She scratched behind her ear and tried to focus. But the song wouldn't go away, in fact, it was getting louder. She recited the alphabet, backwards, and in Quechua, but the tune persisted. She hummed the national anthem, the Folger's coffee jingle, and the Barney theme song- all guaranteed to take the place of whatever was running through an idle person's brain.

Nothing. Nothing but the continued lamentations of a man who wished he could move  _a little further down the line…_

She was about to give up when she caught a blur of orange pass by off to her right. She turned, and found herself with an armful of orange feathers. Familiar orange feathers.

"Sparks! Sparky my boy, is that you?"

She looked down into the grayish blue eyes of the chicken sized bird happily snuggled in her arms.

Sparks had been Lucy's Care of Magical Creatures assignment last term. She had shepherded the orphaned phoenix through his eggfancy as a part of Hagrid's sixth year curricula. During which time, his remarkably hot egg had burned through several cauldrons and scorched the floor of the BA workroom before finally hatching into a small-yet-impressive pillar of fire at the end of term. She studied him intently; he was certainly much bigger now than the chick she had left with Hagrid at the beginning of the summer.

"Looks like you've been eating a lot of...of..."

It occurred to her, quite shamefully, that having taken care of him in his egg phase and then left him mostly to Hagrid, she had no idea what a grown phoenix ate.

"…stuff," she finished lamely.

At least, she assumed he was eating well. Disentangling her quill from his inquisitive beak, she set the paper and ink aside and stretched out in the grass to study the grinning (did phoenixes grin?) bird that was flying low clumsy circles above her head. Sparky was small for a phoenix, and this was likely his full grown size, about 2/3 to a half the size of a full grown bird.

His natal nest had been abandoned and lack of care in early development had resulted in an egg Hagrid had secretly been unsure would survive at all. As it was, Sparky was stunted, the size of a small underfed chicken, and sported the coloring of a blushing pumpkin rather than the brilliant ruby red normally associated with his species. He had a few bright and rust red feathers that stuck out garishly against the orange background, and his eyes were a smoky gray rather than the expected brilliant blue. Still he looked healthy and happy.

"Sparky? Eh, there ye be. So you found yer old friend at last eh? How are you Lucy?"

Lucy smiled up at Hagrid, craning her neck at what appeared to be mostly beard from her perspective. "Fine, he just came winging right at me."

"Eh, well its to be expected. He knows his mum."

"And he's been ok? Nothing weird?" Hagrid had not been the most optimistic for Spark's chances the last time they had spoken.

"Well," Hagrid scratched his chin, somewhere in his beard, and shifted a bit. "He don't grow much, as you see, and that is probably as big as he'll get. An I don't know hows his other abilities will work out."

"Hmm?" Lucy had been scratching Sparks under his chin and was only half listening, "what d'you mean, other abilities?"

"Well, phoenix tears is supposed to have healin' powers, an' they can normally carry the weight of several men, but I don't know how well Sparks will do that. Haven't tested him yet, as his still such a youngin'."

Lucy thought about that. She could commiserate with not living up to the expectations of the rest of the family. "You'll just show us when you're ready, won't you, you little stinker?" The bird was grinning at her, that was the only way she could describe it, and at the moment she didn't give two figs about his magical abilities.

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it's cold outside I've got the month of May. I guess, you'd say, what can make me feel this way?_

"Ah, then there's tha'" Hagrid grimaced and shifted uncomfortably.

_My girl. My girl.._

"What? Sorry Hagrid, I just got a new song stuck in my head." Lucy shook her head as if to physically dislodge the Temptations, but to no avail.

_My girl_

Hagrid sighed, "No, yeah don't."

Lucy frowned. Hagrid pointed to the bird grinning up at her. His beak was still closed, and while it looked like he was humming, she could hear the lyrics distinctly.

_Talkin' 'bout, my girl ._

"That's  _him_?"

"Been doin' tha' all summer. Never heard this song though, his was playing a lot o' Weird Sisters last week."

"I don't' get it."

Hagrid shrugged. "Pheonixes is known for their beautiful singin'. Little ones normally start with a few long notes after six weeks. Sparks, he starts with Celestina Flockhart around the end of July. Far as I know, he can't really sing, sort a picks up on songs from the wireless, learns 'em, and repeats 'em back."

"Huh, but I bet that song wasn't on the Wizarding Wireless."

"I never heard it."

"It's a muggle song, I don't know how he learned it, unless …can he pick up muggle radio?"

"Hmm, don't see why not. Pity tho', phoenix songs- real ones that is- is one of the most beautiful things you'll ever hear. I just don't think he can do it. Anyway, he's pretty much on all right his own now. I still have his perch and give him treats, but he stays around the outbuildings mostly, outside of the castle as that's Fawkes's territory. You might come out for a visit now an' then though. Shame about the music."

"Don't listen to him Sparky," Lucy crooned as she watched Hagrid shuffle off. She sighed and scratched under his chin as she looked from her blank paper to the castle she was supposed to describe. "I don't really fit in that castle either."

She turned back to her letter, thinking about how even the avian species of Hogwarts divided into territories.

"I guess I'll just have to wing it Sparky. Here we go…" She picked up where her first sentence had left off.

"Sometimes it seems like the only thing binding Hogwarts students together is an irrational love of Quidditch and the unspoken fear of what they are not being told."

That wasn't all of course, but she shouldn't mention the rest, or could she? This might be less complicated than she thought. She was never going to meet this Boris, so in theory, she could be completely honest. And after all, wasn't that what an open information exchange was all about?

"There is also, of course, the black market dealings in willow weed, French cigarettes, hard liquor, and Veela porn; the Hufflepuffs, surprisingly, are the principle dealers of the latter, but other than that the separate houses don't cooperate or communicate much."

She sighed in contentment. This might be fun.

Of course, if Gisella ever found out, she'd probably kill her.

* * *

" _You actually wrote the other school about the Hogwarts channels for swapping skin mags?"_

It was hard to tell what disturbed Diego more, that his sister's school had porn in abundance or that his baby sister was fully aware of what that was. She'd been in pig tails yesterday, he could have sworn it.

" _And the magic mushroom dealers, and the faculty's tacit acceptance of the Ravenclaws' abuse of Pepper-Up potion as a means of staying awake to study."_

" _The others are going to kill you, you know this?"_

" _The others don't have to find out. I sent the letter off last weekend, and while I did submit a summary of the main points to everyone else, I may have left out a few details of what went into the final draft."_

" _You're evil."_

" _I am not, it's for the good of the school. The more open we are with them, the more open they'll be with us, I mean, Gisella practically told me to tell them this."_

" _Gisella told you to tell the Durmstrangers about the unauthorized breast augmentation charms being performed by the Slytherin sixth years?"_

" _Well, no, I don't think Gisella knows about that actually."_

" _Come to think of it, hermanita, how do_ **you** _know about all this? You're not that popular."_

" _How do you know I haven't become a social butterfly these past few weeks?"_

" _Because I know you, and you're more like a social **phasmid**. Not to mention these people creep you out."_

" _Not all of them."_

" _Progress then, I'm overjoyed, so how do you know about the boob jobs of 16 year old witches?"_

" _It's been raining a lot, Agatha and I have been practicing concentration in the library."_

" _And?"_

" _She gets distracted easily, but the girl knows everything."_

" _Right, and do you think you should be encouraging this?"_

" _I don't have to. But as long as she's there, it's for the greater good."_

" _Yes, I'm sure that information is really going to make students around the world more safe."_

" _It will when they read about what happened when Cecily Craven got the spell wrong."_

" _I don't want to know."_

" _It was incredible, headlights the size of-"_

" _How's your old science project doing?"_

" _Sparks? It's like having a radio follow me around."_

" _And no one says anything about a strange orange bird following you around the castle?"_

" _Well, compared to Fawkes he's pretty much unnoticeable, not that anyone actually_ sees _him. He perches above the windows, out of sight, but certainly not out of hearing. Although, and thank the little gods for it, I tend to think that a lot of the time he sort of "tunes" to me."_

" _You're sure it's just not songs in your head?"_

" _I think I'm learning to pick up on when it's me and when it's him. There's some low level static when he's targeting me. That doesn't exist when he's singing out loud. It's like getting used to someone when you first start speaking telepathically, I think I'm learning his voice."_

Diego's telepathic 'voice' was perhaps the only one she had never had to get used to. She had immediately known him the first time they had "spoken", as he had known her. His was also the only voice she could hear across such long distances, although on her part it either required a state of deep meditation, as she was currently doing, or a huge adrenaline rush. She could also pick up subtle nuances in tone from Diego, it was as if he were speaking in her ear, as opposed to Bet's voice, which currently sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. Lynx was the worst, while he didn't really have any formal telepathic abilities, like any mentored student still had enough unconscious familiarity with her brain patterns to get her attention, albeit with all the skill, volume, and clarity of shouting from an adjacent mountaintop.

He also very often didn't know when he was doing it- when she could distinguish words, they were usually profanities of some sort.

Diego's "voice" at the moment, sounded nervous. Knowing her brother, he would dance around what was bothering him unless confronted.

" _What is it? You might as well spit it out before I fall asleep here."_

The only place Lucy could meditate without attracting too much attention, so she claimed, was in her bed, in corpse pose. She had fallen asleep during chats on numerous occasions.

" _It's about that."_

" _Seriously? OK, I know it's rude, but I'm trying to be-"_

" _Not_ that _you idiot. I don't care about that, except that your mental snore is a powerful and disturbing thing that I try and avoid. I'm talking about what has been happening once you fall asleep. Once you start dreaming."_

Oh, that. She had been trying to forget.

" _It's not going away, is it?"_

This was tricky territory, and Diego knew it. They were not supposed to be discussing it, it weakened the spell. But by not speaking directly about Sanctuary, or the children there, or how they seemed to be unconsciously communicating with Lucy in her sleep, they left the spell incredibly vulnerable. Carrying on a conversation about a vague and mysterious "it" that was neither vague nor mysterious, was delicate.

" _No, it isn't. It is, in fact, getting worse."_

" _Worse? How- I mean, don't tell me, but-"_

Tricky. She couldn't provide details; they would only increase Diego's conscious thoughts of Sanctuary, resulting in two holes in the shield, rather than one. She sighed.

" _It's not always the same, but it is getting clearer."_

_You don't_ know _, do you?_  The panic in Diego's voice was controlled, but there. If she discovered the location of Sanctuary, the spell would be compromised, the children would be exposed.

" _NO! I'd have done something if that were the case. It's just, more."_

The dreams were a constant thing now that she wasn't living under the shields of a Circle school, they had become more frequent ever since she arrived at Hogwarts. They usually consisted of Lucy, running through forests with her young charges, playing games, never actually discovering where she was going, but getting a very clear picture of where she was. Too clear a picture, a picture nearly clear enough to gate to. She wouldn't let that happen. If it meant she had to Obliviate every memory she had, she wasn't going to be the one to expose the last hope of a Circle under siege.

Diego knew his sister well enough to guess the decision he was making her contemplate, and even as a fist closed over his heart, he pushed.

" _You know what Abraham would say."_

" _But I can control it!"_

"You can _control it, but they can't! This isn't a one-time thing anymore Lucy, this is becoming a channel, it is expressly what we were warned about."_

He was right, she  _hated_  when he was right. And while she knew he didn't  _want_  her to have to make what was rapidly becoming the obvious choice, the responsible choice, he was at the moment the only one she could whine to about it.

" _I don't want to."_

" _I know. I know you don't."_

And because he knew her so well, Diego also knew what he had to threaten to do in order to have his way. He could  _feel_  her wavering, and all it would take was one good push to tip her over to certainty. It was manipulative, something no one but a well-trained Empath would be able to do, to so completely understand a person that the right words will convince them to do exactly what you want them to. He was one such empath. He smiled bitterly, wasn't he lucky?

" _I can come, I can do it for you."_

" _NO! We had a deal, no more of us at Hogwarts than is absolutely necessary… I'll do it. I'll do it myself."_

Diego closed his eyes, a sighed. He wasn't relieved, he should be, hadn't he had done his job? But he didn't feel better. How could anyone who had just asked his sister to cut out a part of herself possibly feel better?

" _You don't have to do this alone. Come here."_

" _No. I can't. Lynx is all over the place, he burned off his eyebrows again, and there's the pen-pal thing, I have responsibilities. I can't leave."_

" _You shouldn't be blocking a mental path without someone else there at least_ guiding _you."_

" _I'll get Rasheph to help. He's managed to get into my thoughts before, he has the instinct, and the patience."_

" _He won't know what to do."_

" _Neither do I, but it's my head. No one knows it better than me, except maybe Papa, and you."_

Diego sighed. He hated not being able to help, especially when he felt responsible. But Lucy's stubbornness was something he only took on when it was absolutely necessary. His coming would help, but it would make  _him_  feel better more than it would help Lucy. Much as he hated to admit it, his little sister had been taking care of herself for quite some time. She didn't always do a great job, but she was hardly helpless.

" _When?"_

" _What day is tomorrow?"_

" _Friday."_

" _I have a session with Rasheph tomorrow afternoon. Maybe we can do it Saturday."_

" _I better hear from you Saturday evening or I'm sending in Virgil. Make sure you keep the Mirror on hand, in case there are any complications."_

" _You mean in case I block the wrong channel and forget who I am? What good would it do then?"_

" _It's not funny Lucy."_

" _You're just worried I'll forget about you."_

" _You won't. I won't let you."_

His confidence gave her confidence. Memory modification was uncommon, but in theory perfectly safe. However, mistakes had happened, usually when someone was stupid enough to modify their own memory rather than waiting for a trained Healer or Empath. There was a possibility that she would kill the wrong set of nerve impulses and erase memories of her home, childhood and family. She didn't want to think of what might happen if she screwed up. She wasn't sure there would be anything Diego could do, but she didn't want to remind him of that.

" _I'll be counting on that. So how is life at Maintainer Central?"_

Diego understood the subject was closed. And while he could still feel her fear and apprehension through the Empathetic link, he knew Lucy's "fake it till you make it" attitude all too well. She was going to act brave, in the hopes that, come Saturday, she could actually  _be_  brave. So he went along with the change in subject, launching into a story about Huck, Puck, Tuck, and a game of strip poker with a very attractive pair of Swedish exchange students, who turned out to be very attractive con artists.

He could hear Lucy's mental yawn as he reached the part of the story where the Maintainers stumbled home stark naked, only to find themselves too drunk to actually  _find_  home.

" _Seriously, this is the best bit of the story."_

" _Sorry, I'm sleepy. You should go, I'll probably start snoring soon."_

" _I think I can stand it. Go ahead and drift off, I'll stick around until you fall asleep."_

And because she was his sister, and he loved her, and because he had just convinced her to effectively erase her happiest memories of the past two years, he stuck around long after her grotesque mental snoring became regular and pronounced.

He would have just drifted off without severing the connection, as they had done as children, but the odds were that Lucy would dream of Sanctuary again, and he couldn't risk seeing that. They weren't children anymore.

" _Good night Luce."_

Then he carefully closed the connection before drifting off to sleep.

 

 


	5. Boris and Fifi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we begin to meet the intrepid students of Durmstrand and Beauxbatons.

 

 

**_"Sometimes paranoia's just having all the facts."_ **

**_~William S. Burroughs_ **

"It looks like smog. Does it always look like that, or is my head just particularly filthy?"

"I've never actually seen one quite like this. It's purple."

"Is not!"

"There's nothing wrong with having purple psychoplasm."

"Nothing about me is purple. That is clearly some form of bluish grey."

Rasheph rolled his eyes. "Do you have a container?"

"Oh yeah, here." Lucy shoved the last breath mint in her mouth and thrust the now-empty tin at him.

"You can't keep it in there!"

"Why not? It'll smell minty fresh."

"I don't think that's… sanitary."

"Well, unless you have something better-"

"Give it here…. Now hand me the spell-o-tape…now the wand."

Rasheph took a breath, sealed the container and preformed the binding charm that effectively bound the vaporish memory inside the peppermint tin. He looked up at Lucy.

"Well, do you remember?"

Lucy tilted her head, raising her eyebrows in an expectant expression, like she was waiting for him to finish the sentence. "Remember what?"

**_…24 hours earlier…_ **

"Did you look under the couch cushions?"

Agatha sighed, "I checked twice."

Lucy growled, "Damn it, that chart took _three days_ , I don't have time to remake it before tomorrow!"

"Yeah, but the formation you're plotting won't be in place for weeks-"

"It has to be approved before I get access to the faculty tower. They are due tomorrow.- Get up."

"What? Why? You already checked these cushions!"

"Now we are going to check under the couch. Help me shift it."

Agatha groaned, and with good reason; the sofa was enormous.

"What did they build this thing out of, rocks?" She was sweating, out of breath, and leaning against the wall while Lucy sorted through the assorted papers under the sofa, none of which appeared to be her star chart.

"Is that," Agatha squinted, "is that what I think it is?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but once upon a time I would say it was probably pudding."

"Not  _that_ , and, may I saw, ew, I mean  _that!_ " Agatha toed a magazine out from under a stack of discarded runes translations, botched potions essays, and a copy of the Tattler.

Lucy raised one eyebrow at the scantily clad witch atop a broomstick. "Huh, swimsuit issue. I guess some things are universal."

"I'm not touching that. Third year boys pass those around, there's no telling where it's  _been_."

"A wise decision I think. We will just have Lynx clean this up, but let's wait to tell him until he has his full range of expressions and facial hair back."

"How do you know it's not Rasheph or Magnus?"

"They're _Ravenclaws_ , Ravenclaws are much too clever to get caught like that."

Agatha thought for a moment, and shrugged.

Lucy sighed. "Ok, we can put it back now."

They had both just collapsed on the cushions when Bet sailed in, elegantly removing her cloak. "Well, I just came from the invalid, and, it must be said, he looks even funnier than he did the last time. It's amazing how you don't really notice eyebrows until they're gone. Oh here Lucy, I accidentally scooped these up with my homework."

She dropped a large pile of papers and star charts in Lucy's lap, ignoring Agatha's groan.

"Enough lazing about Agatha,," Bet continued, "let's get started. Grounding and centering is tiring work, so I hope you're well rested."

Agatha glared at Lucy.

"Oops. I'll just be going then." She tucked her papers into her bag and headed for the library.

Rasheph was waiting at a table in the far corner, amidst the theology books, a seldom-used portion of the school's collection.

"I need to ask you a favor." Lucy said quickly, before she lost her nerve.

"It doesn't involve Dementors again, does it?" 

"No, nothing like that. I need you to help me forget something, well, someone…. actually it's several someones."

The tall Indian boy smiled charmingly. "Darling, I can make you forget all about them. We're going to need some candles and a bottle of wine-"

"Come on Rasheph, I don't have time to mess around."

"Right, straight to the tequila shots then."

"Seriously!"

"Seriously, do you prefer vodka? Because I'm out, but Bet has some. Or we could go wild and get some magic mushrooms from Getman."

Lucy groaned. "Please grow up."

Rasheph's eyes lost their teasing, his brow furrowed. "You don't want to forget about an old boyfriend, do you?"

Lucy sighed. "No, and I can't really tell you who, just that I need to erase all the memories I have of a group of people, and I need to do it permanently."

"But why?"

"I can't tell you. I've never done it, but there is a way to cut the nerve connection to that precise area of the brain which stores those memories, and I can't do it by myself, I need someone else, just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case I cut the wrong connection and forget who and where I am."

Rasheph swallowed. "Why not ask Bet, she's better-"

"Bet deals in the concrete areas of the mind, she hasn't been lost and had to find her way out, which  _you_  have. Working inside someone else's conscious is a delicate thing."

"Which I shouldn't be doing. Lucy, why don't you have someone from, you know, YOUR people do this?"

"Technically, they're _our_ people, and they can't come here, not after this summer. And I can't leave, I mean, have you seen Lynx lately?"

Rasheph grinned, "Don't know what he's complaining about, I think the look suits him."

"I need to do this fast. Can you help me?"

Rasheph sighed, looked into Lucy's eyes and shook his head.

"Nope."

"Please-" Rasheph held up a hand.

"There's absolutely no way I'm standing around while you sever bits of yourself. First because, well, it sounds gross. And second, it's completely unnecessary. Just take the memory out."

"Huh?"

Rasheph sighed, "You need to start trusting wizarding medicine a bit."

"Never."

"This can  _help_. All you have to do is perform a charm that targets the memories you want removed, it adheres to that part of the psychoplasm, and changes the polarity so it separates from the rest of your memories, and it and  _only_  it is removed through the pores at the temple."

"Removed?"

"Yes."

"To where?"

"Well, it exists in a semi-gaseous state, and is usually stored in unbreakable glass vials, although that's merely tradition. I once stored a bad dream of mine in a shoe box for an entire summer."

"If it's outside my head, can't other people see it?"

"Only if they have a Pensieve, and those are really rare nowadays."

"And you've done this before?"

"Yeah, since I was 12. I tend to have a lot of nightmares."

Lucy nodded. With Rasheph's talent for sending and receiving images, it was likely he had pulled in the nightmares of other students more than a time or two.

"I can teach you, it'll be easy because you already know the energy signature of your brain well, you'll be able to target really fast I bet. You charm the memory, extract, deposit and seal."

"Now  _that_  sounds icky."

"It's painless, and far less risky than what you described."

Lucy sighed. She hated spells cast on herself, it made her feel dirty. But if this was the only way to protect Sanctuary then she really didn't have a choice.

"Right, how about tomorrow afternoon?"

**_….24 hours later…._ **

"You're really going to carry it around in a _peppermint_  tin?"

"It's strong, won't shatter, and isn't shiny enough to steal."

"What if someone finds it and wants a breath mint?"

"They'll never get it open."

Rasheph shrugged, "It's your memory."

Lucy stuck the tin in her pocket absentmindedly and stood up. The room spun.

"Easy," Rasheph guided her to a chair. "That'd be the psychoplasm reorienting. Give it a minute. And you shouldn't go swimming for at least an hour."

"What?"

"Trust me."

Lucy sighed, leaned back in the large armchair and waited for the echo-like feeling in her head to subside.

Rasheph watched her intently, as if waiting for something to happen.

"Relax Dr. Radu, I'm not going to collapse, I had a good teacher."

"It's just that I've never actually taught someone else how to do that before."

"Well, you're off to a great start. Trust me, I'm not exactly an honors student."

"Speaking of that, how are you liking Apparator's Ed?"

Lucy sighed, leaned her head back against the chair, and closed her eyes. "I dropped out."

" _What!_ Why!"

"They showed us a film-"

"Don't be ridiculous! They always do that at the start of class, it's just meant to scare you into paying attention."

"It was hideous! People leaving bits of themselves, sometimes  _highly personal_  bits, all over the place; winding up without livers, or fingernails, or  _tongues_! It's a gruesome form of transportation."

"It's fast and efficient and most wizards look forward to getting their licenses."

"Then they clearly weren't paying attention to the case of the wizard who left his  _bladder_  behind! Only slightly better off than the poor man who splinched his colon. Which is one of those cases when  _everyone_  loses."

"But it's a rite of passage!"

"One that I have elected to forego. It's  _barbaric_ , I won't do it. I refuse."

Rasheph rolled his eyes. Sometimes Lucy hated how far behind she was, he understood, but here was the one class where everyone started on the same footing, and she was too stubborn for her own good.

"You can't refuse! How are you going to get around?"

"I can gate if I need to."

"Oh yes, ripping a giant hole in the fabric of space and time is a more elegant solution?"

"At least when I arrive, I know it will be in one piece."

"You arrive exhausted and with a headache, you've said so yourself."

"Well, I don't need to do it  _every_  day."

"How-"

"You might not realize this, but _billions_ of people on this planet live long and happy lives without ever having to dematerialize."

"And it takes them  _ages_  to get anywhere."

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase, "It's about the journey, not the destination?"

"Sounds like a Muggle said it."

Lucy groaned and leaned her head back against the cushions. Wizards, honestly, what could you do?

* * *

" **Dear Lucy,**

**I received your letter, and speak for all Durmstrang students when I say how happy we are to be communicating with Hogwarts."**

"Now that's a lie, and you know it."

"You want me to start off by telling her we had to ply Constantine with vodka and caviar, placed bets to determine who had to write the goddamn letters, and I lost my free time and my best pair of slippers because you are a dirty, dirty cheater?"

"Well, when you put it like that I suppose your way does sound better, and I did not cheat."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"You didn't touch that bludger?"

"What on earth are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting, that you, Stephen Oblonsky, were perhaps the first student in the history of the Guard to emerge from a Bludger Elimination completely unscathed."

"That's not so! I had a mouth injury."

"You _bit your tongue!_ "

"And it was excruciating. I was forced to have Natalia examine it very, very closely."

"I thought she wasn't speaking to you?"

"Not anymore, she only wanted me for my body. It's quite nice actually. Read on."

Boris rolled his eyes, and returned to what he had written.

" **As to the caveat you mentioned in the first paragraph, I have spoken with Constantine Golernishev, President of the Guard, and he expressed his understanding that the views and opinions expressed in your letter were yours and your alone and should not be taken as a reflection of the opinions of the rest of the student body."**

"Very diplomatic of you to leave out Kostya's commments about inbreeding and mental deficiency, the British aren't exactly known for their sense of humor."

"Where is Constantine anyway?"

"I'm not sure, but I am quite confident that wherever Anna Nikitin is, he isn't far away."

"Is he still after that one?"

"Golernishevs like to have their way. Pity, no one told Anna that."

"She's not falling into line?"

"Hardly, she keeps forgetting who is family is, which drives him nuts,  _and_  she's better at Charms than he is, which he really can't stand. He tries to act casual, but he's distracted, _really_ distracted, he poured coffee into his porridge this morning and almost blew himself up in the lab. Personally, I hope this goes on for months, it's better than the Ivana and Iosif show. They're off, by the way."

"Thanks for the update."

" **He also instructed me to tell you that my views and opinions are most often the opposite of his, so if at any time I truly offend you, to please enclose a note and he will ensure disciplinary action is taken immediately. With Constantine I can only imagine this will involve spiking my drink before coercing me into some sort of a card game in which he will likely take me for all I am worth, which is, to be honest, quite a bit less than I was worth six years ago.**

**What you must understand is that Durmstrang is a very remote place. Traditionally we receive little contact from the outside world during the term. If it sounds like the isolation could not get more complete, and many of us thought so, you would be mistaken. Mail is vital to the school. It has always been screened, however recently whole letters have started to go missing. Family owls that used to deliver messages and gifts have begun to refuse to come here, returning home with undelivered post. Or, worse yet, owls have gone missing altogether. They say a change in wind patterns due to a cyclical rises in sea temperature has been blowing them off course, but it never interferes with the official school correspondence, which, our sources tell us, comes in regularly. We fear something else is harming or frightening the birds away.**

**This was the principle reason for the enchanted score that I sent you, and why it had to be sent from Beauxbatons. There are just a few left in existence, and we were only fortunate enough to have the copies we use because of a friendship formed between Valik Oblonsky, one of our representatives at your TriWizard Tournament, and a talented Beauxbaton's Conservatory student, Gigi Lefebvre."**

"My poor, homely elder brother says hello, by the way."

"His letter got through?"

"Postcard, really. And it was delivered by the largest owl I have ever seen. That was a few weeks ago, and when I replied I told him not to send anymore. It looked like an expensive owl, shame to waste it."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"No idea. With Gigi though, that's all he ever lets on."

" **She gifted him the score at the end of the year so the might exchange pleasantries during their separation, and he left it with the school after graduation. Gigi donated her score to Hogwarts. The key signature encryption device, which I would love to take credit for, was also worked out by a third party, one of our sixth years whose mother was a cellist and whose father worked for the KGB. So while I am happy you find the method so enchanting, the only piece of the encryption puzzle that I can take credit for was the means of swapping the key signatures back and forth. Vasily may look small, but he's very smart, and his night flying skills seems to be keeping him from falling prey to whatever has kept the owls away."**

"You might also point out that he has the temper of a rabid dog and no beast in creation would possibly voluntarily approach him. Has she had all of her shots?"

"He is a sweet tempered animal, he just doesn't happen to like  _you_ , Stiva."

"But  _everyone_  likes me!"

"Well, someone was bound not to, can I finish this?"

" **He's a Mongolian Messenger Bat, which were quite common until they fell out of fashion several centuries ago. Although used to great effect by Gengis Kahn, enthusiasm waned, mostly due to domesticated owls becoming all the rage on the continent. In addition to coming from a fine bloodline, we've enhanced him with a few spells, for speed and protection. However, at his size, what he can't bear is heavy loads, which was why we needed a way for just a brief cypher to encode a larger one. The key signature algorithm is automatic, and when applied to my score, will decrypt the music into words, without requiring Vasily to carry much more than a scrap of paper.**

**No, he does not need to be fed. He makes the trip in remarkably short time, and the smell of petrol that surrounded him when he returned leads me to suspect he has been saving energy by hitching part of the way clinging to muggle air transport. You may let him wait inside, if he happens to come before you have finished, but he's a creature of the North, and can more than handle waiting outside. It is entirely up to you."**

"You should ask her about the shots!"

"That is completely unnecessary. He's a very clean animal."

"All I'm saying is that if your family pet starts teething on Hogwarts' chosen representative, it's going to create friction. For all we know he bit her when she mailed her reply and she's never going to speak to us again."

"Fine, I'll add a disclaimer."

" **On second thought, it would be best for all if you just had him wait outside, and when attaching the key, try not to make any sudden movements."**

"Satisfied?"

"Not remotely. Would have been safer using dragons."

"If you don't shut up and let me finish, I'm going to fall behind on my chart. And if I fall behind on my chart, I'm not sharing with you any more of the meaningless gossip she puts in between the more salient details."

"But I want to know if the Brown girl has been drinking again. She's worse than Nadia."

"I heard that!" Came an angry alto voice from the darkness.

"Chyort," Stiva cursed. "The problem with these observation tents is you can see the stars just fine but it is impossible to see who else is out here.

Studying the stars above the Arctic Circle was a chilly prospect at the height of summer, but during the winter, unprotected, it was downright suicidal. Which was why, centuries ago, a clever Durmstrang professor had developed a wind-resistant, quasi-transparant, chameleon like material which admitted starlight un-impeded. Once the tents were set up and the cloaking charm in place, from the outside they were virtually invisible, whilst from the inside students could see out the roof through their telescopes just as if the tent wasn't there.

He could hear Boris chuckling ,"You'll never get her to date you now, Stiva."

"I didn't mean you my dearest, I meant Natalia!" His friend tried to salvage.

"I can hear you too, Stephen Oblonsky, you good for nothing chyortov dog!" Came a second disgruntled female voice

Stiva groaned, "I need to date someone who isn't in astronomy."

Boris chuckled, then grew quiet as he began to write again. Stiva might just get his wish. Their astronomy professor had not been seen in three days, and it was only a matter of time before he was replaced.

* * *

**...One week later...**

"They scan their mail?"

"Every word, always have. But now owls are being attacked, going missing, and nothing ever comes in. The school owl population has disappeared. That's why they have to use alternative means to reliably communicate with us. They are entirely dependent on Beauxbatons for news from the continent. I gave them the Prophet headlines, not that they were any help. Especially since most of what we exchange is who is alive and who has died. You know there is a rumor floating around Austria that Harry Potter has a stronghold in the Alps?"

"Odette heard it was Siberia." Marguerite added.

"From what I hear from Boris, it's horrid in Siberia this time of year."

"Is there ever a good time of year for Siberia?"

"July the 23rd, from noon until three," Sasha Yudin said dryly, not looking up from her soup.

Vladimir rolled his eyes. The sudden disappearance of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger had been all the school talked about for a full week, and rumors of the manner of their deaths were only trumped by the rumors of where they were and what they were doing. People seemed more worried about the school's most famous student than they did about the headmaster, who had not been sighted for quite some time. That meant McGonagall was in charge, and she had been absent all yesterday, leaving the students in a state of panic, for when McGonagall was absent, Professor Snape ran the school, and no one was happy. Not even the Slytherins.

"Ok- let's keep on topic, what else?"

"I wrote down most of the salient details here."

"Salient details?" Vladimir raised an eyebrow.

"Well I didn't think the society or the school needed to be appraised of the filler gossip and small talk we exchanged. The staff changes at Durmstrang are what really make them nervous. Very few of the old and respected professors remain. They have a tendency to retire quite suddenly and are replaced almost immediately."

"By who?"

"By people who are clearly not teachers. More like wardens. The lessons cease, and students are assigned independent study, acres of parchment on obscure topics in old magic, spells that were abandoned eons ago as impossible or forbidden, they are being made to research every detail."

"What for?"

"They don't know. Fact of the matter is that the Durmstrang Library takes up an entire two floors of the school, and it has the most extensive collection of rare and banned books, scrolls, and manuscripts on the continent. They aren't being set essays on the Troll Uprisings of 1508, they are doing research in what is essentially the largest restricted section in the world."

"If someone wanted information from the library, why not simply raid it?"

Lucy smiled. "Because the founders built the school like a fortress, to protect the students, and they designed the library to preserve knowledge  _for them_. No one but a Durmstrang student or teacher can read any of the books in the library. They are each charmed by the librarian to either lock or become blank when accessed by anyone who is not student or staff."

"But you said they had employed new staff-"

"That's the good news. While at Hogwarts, the school only chooses the students, but their school works differently. Students are also invited to Durmstrang, but  _so are the faculty_."

"The teachers are sorted?"

"Well, no. Boris won't tell me the process, said it wasn't important. What was important though, is that the school did  _not_ choose the teachers that were recently brought in, because they're unable to open the textbooks."

"So teachers  _can_  come that aren't chosen?"

"I imagine the same way that I'm here even though my name didn't appear on the Hogwarts rolls."

"But you can open our books-"

"Clearly our school is less picky. The point is, the Durmstrang  _students_  are being used to do someone else's work."

"Why not just drag their feet, bungle it a bit, you know, resist?"

"They're trying, but it's a slippery slope. Anyone suspected of trying to sabotage their assignment gets put in the Potions Lab."

"Potions isn't that bad."

"It is when you are assigned to manufacture poisons and unstable potions which, if done incorrectly, will seriously hurt someone. In one case they set a student to making the poison, and the other the antidote, then tested them  _on_  the students."

"What happened?"

"The poisoner had bungled, but not enough, so when they made another student drink the botched potion, although it didn't kill her, the antidote couldn't cure her either. By the time the professor got around to making the proper antidote, her vocal cords had been burned off. She'll never speak again."

Marguerite shuddered. "And they have no way to escape?"

Lucy shook her head. "The school is very, very remote. Same restrictions on apparating that apply here. Not to mention they have been promised that if one student breaks the boundary rules, the entire school will be disciplined."

Dimitri tapped his quill against the table as his gaze tracked around the room. "The bit with the owls is new, but in theory we could have Hogwarts owls being scared off as well, to a lesser extent. We'd never know- come to think of it, how did  _they_  know? That something's attacking the owls?"

Lucy shrugged, "They didn't say."

"If You-Know-Who is going after owl mail, other people need to know, I mean, more than just us," Nicholas glanced around the room.

"Which brings us to the Lane brothers," Gisella smiled. "Who have proposed a safe means of communicating information to the school at large."

Wesley and William stood up and bowed with a flourish. "The problem with distributing notes or flyers is that eventually, they are going to be seen, and  _someone_  is going to get caught."

"Caught by who, and for what?"

"We have to assume that if You-Know-Who can plant teachers in one school, it's possible that there are people inside  _our_  castle who have- complicated allegiances. We don't want any single person getting attention for knowing things that the Prophet never reported, speaking about news items that we could only have from abroad, it puts the whole system at risk, and it could put more pressure on the students at Durmstrang."

"Add that to the insult of getting caught. Our brother Warren," William laid his hand over his heart, "would never stand for his brothers being associated with amateur level subterfuge."

"He would only be satisfied with the highest level of subterfuge, and that is what we are going to give him. With these," with a snap he held in his hand a set of perfectly ordinary looking felt tip pens.

"Sharpies?" Lucy raised an eyebrow, "Your plan is magic markers?"

"They are indeed, magic markers. But it is not so much the tool as the canvas that is the genius part of our plan," Wesley grinned. "Marguerite, the slide it you would."

"How did you get slides?" Lucy cried, but no one listened.

A picture appeared on the wall at the far end of the table.

"Um, Wills-"

"I think you got them mixed up."

"No we didn't."

"That is a picture of the third floor bathroom."

"That's Myrtle's place."

"Exactly, it will be empty, no one will notice."

"Notice what?"

William threw a marker at Lucy. She stared down, appalled.

"Graffiti! That's your big plan! You want me to  _tag_  Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Not so much tag as communicate important bits of news like: 'Your owl is not safe.' 'Beware the false Prophet'"

" 'Get out while you still can?' " Sasha grinned.

"This is going to be the cheesiest information campaign ever."

"Teachers are used to seeing graffiti, they won't think anything of it. They don't take it seriously. But once word gets out that the messages are legitimate, people will be able to stay in the loop without risking being caught. You can't very well assume that everyone using the bathroom is up to something."

"Won't all the people suddenly flocking to Moaning Myrtle's attract attention?"

"We aren't going to restrict ourselves to Moaning Myrtle's. There are plenty of markers, the more people we use, the less anyone snooping will be able to find common handwriting and such. Oh, and Vladimir fixed the ink."

"Fixed?"

"Increased the glycerin content," Vladimir shrugged, "it will take it longer to dry and appear, so the messages won't show up for over an hour. People won't be able to trace you leaving the bathroom with the appearance of a message."

"Not that anyone is going to notice anything new in the east dungeon boys bathroom. You'll be lucky to find a blank space."

"Any note that doesn't involve Snape in an anatomically impossible position is just going to be ignored anyway."

Katya rolled her eyes at the Tsujimoto twins, then leaned toward Dimitri and added quietly, "You know, they do have a point."

Gisella smiled contentedly. "Molto bene. Lucy and Marguerite will continue to enter their notes from each letter into the cheat books," she gestured to two battered blue test notebooks on the table, "once entered the notes will then appear in the linked books in each of the remaining three houses. With each house having a complete set of notes, you can select the most important information to distribute to the entire student body using the pens. To maximize efficiency and minimize risk we will need a rotating bathroom schedule, I believe the Ravenclaws have drawn up a map?"

Lucy groaned as Sergei distributed maps  _and_ calendars. "Of  _course_  they have."

* * *

**...elsewhere, and a little bit later...**

Her name was Josephine Rousseau, and she could hex the wings off a fly at a hundred yards. Standing still, she was completely ordinary. Pretty, but not beautiful, she had features that were pleasing to look at, and almost instantly forgettable. Mahogany skin, close cropped black hair, and brown eyes of absolutely ordinary shape. Her smile was, to be perfectly honest, quite stunning, but Josephine didn't smile. Not lately.

It was her movement that gave her away. Too fluid while at the same time too controlled for a seventeen-year-old, as if you could stop her at any moment and no matter the position, even mid step, she could hold the pose with perfect balance.

And she could.

That kind of training only came from a lifetime, however brief, of study with the Ballet Marais. Only a handful of select students were allowed to continue their lessons while at Beauxbatons, where there had been a _premiere maitre de ballet_  of the company in residence since the 18th century. The current balletmaster, Arthur Saint-Leon, had handpicked her from an audition of over 200 young witches when she was nine and a half. She had practiced her swish and flick at the same time she practiced her plies.

There were many artists at Beauxbatons, the school prided itself on nurturing those skills and talents in the fine and performing arts both magical and non-magical which other schools ignored. And there were other dancers, students in larger classes taught by less eminent instructors. But Josephine was now the senior student of the most prestigious balletmaster in France, and had held that distinction for nearly two years.

So perhaps it should not have come as such as surprise that when Arthur Saint-Leon was blown up in late August, along with two principle dancers, the entire ballet corps, and half the audience of the Ballet Marais' September production of La Bayadere, Josephine Rousseau would be the person to take it the hardest.

She did not stop training; to do so would have been an insult to the memory of her teacher. No, she moved with the same fluidity and grace she always had. Her lines were perfect, one might say she was in the peak physical shape of her life.

Her motives, however, were a little different.

At the moment, her tiny frame and impossible balance were being put to use climbing along narrow ledges that ran atop the walls of the cavernous sewers that ran below her school out into the city. She approached the T junction, her ears straining for the slightest sound.

"FIFI! FIFI ARE YOU THERE YET?" The voice exploded in her ear and she wobbled. Raising an arm above her head to catch the ceiling and kicking out against the far wall to keep from falling she gritted her teeth and whispered into her lapel.

"Yes Michel. Turn it down a bit! Unless you want them to hear!"

A contrite male voice apologized.

"Just leave it in the middle of the junction ceiling, you can reach that far, can't you?"

"Sure," she muttered to herself. "No problem."

She slipped her free hand into her pocket and removed a small black button. She carefully wrapped the end of the wire wound through the button holes in the dark black putty, and, smushing the whole thing together, leaned out over the filthy water and stuck the button on the roof of the tunnel.

"Be sure and cover it." Came Michel's voice at a more reasonable volume.

"I really hate this part."

"Last one, Fifi."

Holding her nose, Josephine scraped a thick paste of mud-and-Merlin-knew-what-else from the side of the canal at her feet, and plastered it over the button. It now looked and, more importantly, _smelled,_ like any other part of the sewer. Just like the last several dozen of these she had placed inside the sewer complex. Only this junction was the most dangerous, since it was the farthest outside the palace grounds.

"C'est fini. Sacre Merlin. I need a bath."

"Good girl. Now, back as quick as you can. Everything looks like it is working from here."

Josephine began to creep along the ledges, hopping from one side of the tunnel to the other to accommodate for missing stones and the occasional minor rock slide. The stones were slick and narrow and it was unlikely that anyone without professional training would have been able to get it all done in one trip, and even  _they_  were likely to have fallen. But they had learned not to disturb the water. Which was why this was Fifi's job.

"Left, Right, Straight," she heard Michel remind her as he guided her back, his bewitched buttons transmitting to his modified radio, showing him exactly where in the sewer complex she was moving.

She was in the final straightaway to the floodgate when she heard a shake to Michel's voice.

"Move _faster_ Fifi."

"Michel-"

"It's miles away." His voice was flat and even.

"They move fast." She picked up her pace, stumbling once, falling out over the water before catching herself on the opposite side.

"Calm down Fifi. Get under the gate and light the water."

She flew along the tunnel.

"Talk to me Michel."

"It's confused, it's following the path you came in on, not the way you left. It gives us time."

"Nearly there."

"Remember, you can't have your feet down when you light it."

"I'm not an imbecile."

She made it to the exit, the ledge in front of her came to an abrupt halt, and, sunken into the wall on her left, a short jump away, there was a small stone platform at the base of the cylindrical chimney sunken back into wall. The tunnel itself continued straight ahead into the darkness. The platform and cylindrical chimney were blocked off from the rest of the tunnel by an ancient portcullis. She had left it unlocked, and using one arm, raised it above her head before carefully taking one foot off the edge, stepping onto the platform, sliding under the portcullis and pulling her other leg onto the platform before lowering the gate back down and locking it with the iron bar.

There was no ladder. Josephine deftly began to climb the rocks freestyle, pressing against the sides of the chimney to give her leverage. About ten feet up she came level with the trapeze, which she had been lowered down on. Bracing herself on her arms, she slipped her legs in, then gracefully lowered herself until she was hanging by her knees.

The chain swayed and she put out a hand to steady it. She couldn't be touching the walls.

"Fifi…" Michel sounded tense.

"I'm ready."

"Now."

With the precision of an Olympic marksman, she aimed for one of several dozen small, rusted metal boxes that lined the walls of the sewer tunnels. With a flick of her wrist, the fragile aged metal broke from the wall and tumbled into the air. Before it hit the water and sank, Josephine ignited the old kerosene wick with another silent flick. Then she hugged her head to her knees as the water and thickly coated walls erupted in flames that shot down the tunnels in every direction, including up.

The coating on the chimney walls was thin, and and they only burned for a few seconds before the fire shot back down along the seething, burning water. Josephine blew out the breath she had been holding, clung to the chain as she pulled out her legs, and once again began to climb.

"Nearly there," she puffed, taking a break and balancing a foot in the chain and one against the wall, never, ever looking down.

"We need twenty seconds, they're almost in position."

"My arms are nearly dead, Michel."

"Fifteen seconds."

She reached her final foothold, the chimney was narrower at the top, and she crouched, her weight on the balls of her feet, below a circle of wavering light. It sparkled and danced, like when she would lay on the bottom of the school swimming pool and look up.

"Five seconds Fifi."

She took a deep breath, pushed her hands above her head, through what felt like a foot of Jello, and pushing off her feet and straightening her legs, stood up.

She was immediately drenched. She sputtered as strong arms reached through the umbrella of water and pulled her out of the bottom of the fountain.

Around her it was perfectly orchestrated bedlam. The main atrium of Beauxbatons was sparkling and bright and filled with people. A "spontaneous" battle of hexes had drawn nearly the entire student body from the dining room to the atrium, and there were people lined up six deep surrounding the entire circular fountain.

Josephine could not make out what the big distraction was, no doubt Gabrielle would give her a full recount later. Five people were performing drying spells on her at the moment as another fastened her cloak around her shoulders.

"Ouch, damn you Bernard that thing is hot!" She hissed.

"Sorry" mumbled Bernard.

"Ten seconds," came a voice in her ear.

"Fifi!" She turned toward the sound of her name and deftly caught her rehearsal bag, tossed by an unknown student on the fly as the crowd rapidly began to disperse and Josephine and her friends strolled casually away from the fountain towards the East Wing. No onlooker would have suspected anything amiss, and no one who wasn't standing right next to the fountain would ever have seen the dark sylph pulled from the under the large umbrella of spray.

Students moved quickly and efficiently through the halls, the early morning light bouncing off the ancient gilded mirrors, and washing out the warm glow the shining Baccarat chandeliers cast on the thick Persian carpets.

Sweaty and dirty, Josephine clutched her rehearsal bag as a prop and glided toward the girls' dormitory.

"Fifi! Practicing early again, were we?" Right on cue, Madame Prideux, their Astronomy professor, emerged from her room and raised an eyebrow at Josephine's attire as the girl nodded. "Goodness the halls must have been completely dark, up before the sun," she shook her head, checked her hair in the mirror, and gave the girls a smile before heading to her morning class.

"I thought all the studios were locked that early Fifi?"

"Not Monsieur Saint-Leon's studio," Fifi said quietly, as they entered the bathroom and she dropped her bag on the loveseat next to the make-up mirror.

"Ugh, no disrespect, but how could you work in there, with no mirrors?"

"There are no mirrors on stage, either, Marie. You have to get used to not looking at yourself."

Marie gave an exasperated sigh as the girls moved into the tiled shower room and the jets were turned on full.

"Soap, lots of it," Josephine demanded. "I positively reek."

Anne appeared at her side. "Lavender, best I've got. Did you get them all?"

"Yes. And Michel says they're working."

"Thank you Fifi. You're the only one who could have done it."

Josephine sighed as the warm water sluiced over her hair and shoulders.

"There was one down there."

Gabrielle sighed, "Yes, Michel told Julien, and he told Luc, and he told Madeleine, and she told Odette and she-"

"I understand, cherie."

"Julien wanted to go down instead of you."

"Julien would have twisted his gigantic ankles and fallen in before the first turn and then where would we be?"

This last comment came from the smooth contralto of Odette Pasquier, who had appeared in the mist of the showers and begun washing her hair.

"Doesn't anyone have class this morning?" Fifi rolled her eyes and giggled.

"Just the children. Ugh, I have a twig in my hair," Odette turn up her nose as she combed out her long red hair.

"I keep telling you to chop it off, it's more practical for our work."

"You were blessed with a symmetrical skull and blemish-free scalp, Fifi. We have not all had your genetic good fortune."

"And where were you?" Anne raised an eyebrow at Odette, "You missed everything."

"So I hear. I'm sorry I couldn't be of help, I slept in the stables."

"All night!"

"Something's been scaring the horses. It's not safe to let them sleep in the paddock and if they get too agitated in the stalls they'll damage their primary feathers."

The Beauxbatons flying horses were on the Ministry's Endangered Species List. The school took the responsibility very seriously.

"And what made it safe for you to be out there?"

"I was with Sebastien, Yves, and Sophie, not to mention Monsieur and Madame Moreau. It was perfectly respectable. I just got a little dirty when we exercised them this morning."

"Anything from Hogwarts this morning?" Gabrielle wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed another for her hair.

"No, their correspondent Marguerite usually writes at night. I don't expect anything until tomorrow."

"Durmstrang?" Anne kept her shower head running, but slid into her robe.

Odette shrugged, "I haven't checked in with Fernand today. Their girl Anna normally writes during her study hall, which is also in the evening, so nothing for the next couple of hours at least." Odette slid into her robe.

Anne waited until everyone was finished talking before she turned off the pounding noise of the spray.

As they filed out past the sinks and down the back hallway that lead to the girls rooms, their chatter was of boys, and hairstyles, and the latest fashion magazine arrived from Paris. No one listening would think their worries anything other than the typical drama of a set of teenage witches.

As they emerged, dressed, and ready for their next performance, Odette and Josephine paused, staring out the floor to ceiling windows into the fall morning.

"I have a funny feeling Fifi. Like nothing's ever going be the same again."

Josephine thought of her teacher, of her friends in the ballet, all gone, along with the mirrors Monsieur Saint-Leon had borrowed from the school for his summer studio, all lost in the fire. She thought of the fire this morning. Of the fires to come.

"No, it won't," she met her friend's gaze, "how could it?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this series has been slow to write on my part, part of starting something before books are out and then falling behind is seeing your story-canon destroyed. Obviously the stories are still AU, since in my universe Dumbledore was still alive and the Golden Trio are still at Hogwarts at the start of the year, and Snape is still unsuspected. This chapter served to sort of bring the story closer to canon, out of laziness really, I didn't want to have to write an adventure for Harry, Ron, and Hermione when the Book 7 adventure is so good. So I just wrote them out of the castle, along with Dumbledore. It's kind of how I imagine most wizards deal with news about them anyway - "Oh, and Harry Potter's done this," then carry on with their life. So in my head Dumbledore has been killed, in a less public fashion, but no one knows this, and since Harry was probably a part of the misadventure around Dumbledore's death (because when isn't Harry at the center of things), he and the other 2 fled in response to the loss of Dumbledore and the last thing he did was pledge them to their new mission. They are now carrying out their mission with the Horcruxes.  
> This will all have very little to do with Lucy or the other schools, since most of this story is concerned with what was happening off-the-page elsewhere in the wizarding world.
> 
> Oh, and McGonagall is not dead, but for my purposes she was most likely caught up in the mysterious adventure that drove Harry from the school and killed Dumbledore and hasn't yet returned.


End file.
